9:06 AM

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
September 11, 2001

I hope no one’s dead is what I think when we are told of the plane hitting the building. And I don’t go to the window right away because of course there is someone dead and I just don’t want to see that, I want to give them time to die alone without the gawking. So I watch the backs of the people who look out and how their bodies stiffen and hands fly to mouths, and I know this is bad and something I should see, to witness because it is so bad. And so I look too, not knowing what I’ll find. And I can’t even picture what to look for because what would it look like exactly, a plane hitting a bulding. And I just don’t see it at first, I just don’t look in the right spot, and I wonder now if I did see, and yet looked away because it didn’t register what was happening, like my whole left eye was turned off and all I could see was the right side of the world, and that was normal and OK and safe.

And then I see it. A huge hole, huge, floors and floors and I’m not going to throw up not here in this conference room and yet I want to puke, endlessly retch; I’ve swallowed what I’ve seen and it’s killing me and has to come out, oh I want to barf, I want to heave and convulse. I want to fall onto the floor and bang my head to get this picture out. But I don’t. I look and look and look. I’m fastened to the floor. They are trying for the roof, they are jumping out the windows, and now I want to see my bones, bite my fingers until the skin is gone; I want a rock to smash my feet. They won’t escape, they are doomed, and I want razors to slice deep gashes in my back. Where is my blood? It’s stuck inside and theirs is running out. Their carpets are red and squish. And ours is still pristine.

Break the windows, break the windows, give them air in the smoke. I make my hands like fists to break the windows in front of me to give them air, to pull them close. I want jagged glass and my blood on their charring faces, my slashed arms stretching like a rope to safety. I am haunted by their eyes. I want to peel off my skin; it’s a barrier and I can’t get to their eyes. There are too many molecules of air, and they are in my way. I have to touch their eyes. We can see each other and we can never ever touch. I want to claw until my nails tear off, I want my heart to stop. I have to have them with me and I’m stopped by glass and air. Transparent and invisible, and I am in a cage. I want to pull my hair and rip out chunks of my scalp. I want these people, I want them, want them, want them. And then I think to pray.