At the end of July 2001, I left my East 28th St apartment in New York to reenter the military in Singapore, flying out of JFK through Eero Saarinen’s glorious TWA Terminal. I spent my second-last night in New York in the shadow of the looming towers, roaming through TriBeCa, gazing up at their lights, gaping at their magnitude. I knew I would miss the city, its energy, the confluences of worlds compressed into its five boroughs.
Less than two months later, the world changed, and on that horrible day we were all Americans.
Always remember. Always.
In memoriam Sept 11, 2001.