Lower Manhattan, 10/07/2001

Melanie used to live in Manhattan, so as we walked down down 6th Avenue I kept asking, "Would we have been able to see the towers now?" A man walked past with a large upside-down tulip grasped tightly in his fist, a lost look on his face. No telling if he would have been doing that had there been no terrorist attacks. The thousands of pictures at St. Vincent's, the fire stations... the melted candles at bus shelters - those wouldn't have been there had the towers still stood.

Pedestrians could cross Canal Street and keep heading South toward Ground Zero; car access was limited. I was getting antsy, a little weak in the legs, not knowing what to expect. A number of streets to the West were barricaded, and we could see the dust cloud rising in front of the buildings surrounding the site. We kept on moving until we hit Murray St., about three short blocks away from the cranes. We edged along the far side of the street behind the barricades, past pictures of the missing police officers and firemen. At West Broadway a group gathered, staring beyond a white tarp stretching across the road. I could only see a glimpse of the wreckage as we were ushered across the street by the cops, but looking at the photo now I think the rubble rose into view just right of center.

Then there was the broken corner of this nearby building.

Corner of Murray and West Broadway.

We trudged East to Broadway, then skirted the site by about a city block. Cops checked the passports of residents who wanted to get back to their stuff. National Guard troops rode past on stadium carts. A half dozen giant gray dump trucks rumbled out of the recovery zone.

These are our streets.

There was a smell I haven't encountered before, sort of like burnt newspapers but with a harsh undercurrent. Since I've never smelled this before I've decided it's charred concrete, and I'm leaving it at that.

At the more panoramic intersections they have tarp covering the pedestrian side of the street; people line up to peek through the gaps. This was taken on John Street, looking into the center of the wreckage. I think that's the inside of the WTC wall, something nobody was ever meant to see.

Shreds of paper still spin through the sky, and concrete dust has settled like fireplace ash on all the awnings.

The Woolworth building once again dominates the skyline from City Hall. I haven't been down to this end of town enough to understand just how much is missing from the sky here, but I think the towers filled most of the right half of the photo and rose well past the top of the frame.