The Art of the Brick

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love letter

to new York

libertY

On September 11, 2001, I was living in an

apartment near Gramercy Park, about three

miles from the World Trade Center. I worked

uptown, right near Grand Central Station, but

my girlfriend at the time worked for a firm in the

South Tower. At 8:46 on most mornings, she’d

generally be at her desk or somewhere near it,

70 or so stories above the ground.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

yearning to be free. —Emma Lazarus

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But at 8:46 this particular morning, she wasn’t.

She’d been working long hours and had worked

until one in the morning that particular day,

and we hadn’t seen too much of each other. So

when she found me eating my bowl of Froot

Loops in the kitchen, I said, “Why don’t you

have breakfast?” She never ate breakfast, but

forsome reason she said, “They look good,”

put down her bag and keys, and decided to

join me. She still jokes to this day that Froot

Loops saved her life.

The TV was on, but we were talking and not

really watching. But when we saw the breaking

news, we ran up to the roof of my apartment

building, which had a clear view of the Twin

Towers. And that’s where we were when the

second plane hit the South Tower, just a few

floors above her law firm.

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