Sept. 16, 2001
Home in Brooklyn....A tornado is a spinning cyclone of nature. It stampedes like an angry bull through a tranquil pasture of blue violets and upright blades of grass. A tornado kills with abandon but has no will. Last Tuesday, September 11, I saw one of the two Twin Towers vomit dark clouds of venom into the air. Before my eyes, what appeared to be an unimaginable accident of chance was transformed into something unworthy of a breath. Unable to comprehend the reality of death, my neighbor's son mourns the death of the twins. Like my friends in Sarajevo ten years ago, my house of drafts is pummeled by the danger that is now the wind.
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