The emotional reaction this day evokes in me is no different than that what I felt seeing it unfold large scale on a projector in my third period German class nine years ago. There was no Channel One, no morning announcement that day. I still have the page from my sketchbook -- the sky drawn so strangely still and cerulean, the cloud coming from the half broken building self contained and pencil lead gray. Orderly.
I find it interesting in retrospect that I did not depict what was clearly visible. The reds and oranges of fires and explosions. The black and dark dark gray of ash, of smoke. The falling bodies. The second plane. There is nothing orderly about chaos.
Today is September Eleventh, Two Thousand and Ten. Zealotry has no single religion. The calendar says we are forward but often I feel we must be going backwards.