Saturday, 11 September 2010

The Sirens


I was completely taken by this cemetery in the middle of New York. Death, right in the middle of one of the most alive cities in the world.

Nine years ago I flicked the morning news on, six months pregnant with Max. Wanting to catch the headlines, I waited and waited. They seemed to playing some kind of Bruce Willis film ... maybe it was the film critic going over his favourite action movies?

I watched the towers fall down so many times. Remember how it kept getting replayed? On all four major channels? I think the ABC finally went over to some childrens shows. I flicked over to them sometimes. Just for a breather, soothe myself from the horror.

The whole world was watching the world fall apart.



Dave and I saw so many amazing things in our recent time in New York. I'd never been before, and yet the sound of the city was so very familiar. Every time I heard a police siren, ambulance .... especially a fire truck, I wondered. Did that particular siren I was hearing ..... make the terrible sound of alarm, nine years ago? I saw so many firetrucks. Did they go to the aid of their friends? Were they covered in that terrible white dust, on That Day?

We had to visit Ground Zero, pay our respects. For so many years I've wondered what it would've been like to be there. Having the day start so normally, finish with such dark.



(When I took this next photo, I noticed the workers *totally* checking me out. Blatantly. They were all standing there, having a smoke, rebuilding the site of one of the biggest tragedies of all time .... staring at the redhaired Aussie tourist.)







I followed their gaze to my right, to gloat to Dave that I. Still. Had it! Until I noticed the gorgeous blonde next to us, a short denim skirt, thighs up to her eyes. SPEWING! I kissed Dave instead, as he looked up in awe of the cranes and building work. "Hon, check out the scaffolding. Unbelieveable!"

It must have been - it takes a lot to impress my builder husband.

We went into the temporary museum. Terrible artifacts were on display .... two police handguns, melted and molded together. Debris, chunks of airplane. Twisted, awfully grotesque huge pieces of metal, from the actual buildings themselves. I touched them, feeling immense sadness. Something I had only seen and heard about ... was right in front of me.



It felt exquisitely painful. And holy.

We went downstairs and I filled out a card, writing my thoughts and condolences, to be stuck up on a wall as part of an exhibition.

Then there were the photos. I turned to see some missing posters and photos on a wall. I remembered seeing all of those hopeful people on the news, waiting in line to talk to the cameraman, begging for news on their loved ones.

The next wall made me suck in my breath. And cry.








I hope there is never another wall like this, ever again.
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