"As he hears the screech of brakes he notices lanes of cars racing past, trucks clogging roadways and pedestrians, less than the usual fray, frantically seizing opportunities to cross the avenues that converge in Times Square. It almost seems ordinary except for the space between and the lack of self confidence at the abundance of missed opportunities and the misfiring of instinct no longer hard wired in the psyches of the terrorized. He splits for the hotel a block away, amused that his new home resembles a Disneyland of detritus and cultural depravity but he tries not to find too much fault because he knows this is the last place he’ll be before the real trouble starts. Trouble which he cannot name but knows is headed his way.
        That night when he ventures into Times Square he encounters a thousand lights, the wicks of candles wavering in the breeze, illuminating the darkness that had not fallen there in more than a century. A vigil is taking place and the silence is deafening; only the sound of sobbing filters through. The streets are blocked so no cars can pass and the big Sony monitor is black. All the neon lights are out, the darkness so opaque he has to blink a few times to adjust. Pacing the circumference of the congregation, he takes in profiles as if gathering intelligence. Not searching for anyone in particular he merely catalogues the architecture of the event, viewing the tops of heads as if they constitute the first elevation, preferring the perspective from his hotel room window where the sea of humanity looks like a pointillist painting." 

         
                                  Excerpt from SEPTEMBER 10TH








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