A year has passed since the buildings folded in upon themselves. There have been many speeches and many bombs and many deaths, and I’m not sure anyone feels better. The villains remain at large. The phrase that best encapsulates 2002 for me is „undisclosed location.“
My location is disclosed. I do not even have three days‘ water supply, and I do not know how to bandage a gunshot wound. Like the many New Yorkers who chose to leave their hometown today, I have been trying to avoid this anniversary. I don’t need a day of remembrance. I remember already. That’s what brings us together as a nation: a memory we really don’t want.
The anniversary arrives, and perhaps there is comfort in ritual. I suggest a day of prayer for all those who will die before Sept. 11, 2003. The innocent, unknowing future dead — I ask that their numbers be few and their deaths be swift.