I was at school, with all the sweet, innocent littles, watching the atrocities on the tv in the lounge in bits and pieces. It seemed unreal, just as it still does.
It just so happened that I had just returned from a trip to New York and I was there again almost exactly a year later. What struck me the most (and stays with me today) was not the actual site, the missing building, or the destruction, but the walls of missing persons postings in Grand Central Station. It was utterly overwhelming. Today my heart is with those families.
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