domingo, 26 de agosto de 2012

MURMÚRIOS DE MANHATTAN III

The Towers


I miss them. Truly. Although they were not a favorite part of the city, they belonged there, they just were there. I'll never forget when David Bowie said that when he waked up the morning after 9/11 he thought something was strange about his window view - he could see the sun, where before the towers covered it.
Inspite of their humungus height, I remember the towers didn't feel menacing, somehow. They were elegant and tall and slim and when you looked up at them they always seemed to belong some place else, in some kind of ethereal olimpus way above the rooftops of Manhattan, between the earth and the sky.
The view from them was awkward. I have pictures taken from them, which seemed to me taken from the airplane, when I got back home and couldn't quite place them. They were so high you lost the city below and everything seemed like a distant, ethereal dream of some kind.
I remember very distinctly the feeling of coming close to them, stopping in the middle of the square and looking up. My neck would twist all the way to the back and it felt as if my eyes would never, ever stop rising from the ground.
There's a picture of the bulding before it happened which I can never look at in absolute peace. It's a picture of the lobby where we queued to climb in the elevators. I can't look at it because I remember being there just 6 months before.
When they started collapsing I started crying and I don't think I have stopped crying for them ever since.


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