While pausing for a red light at Houston Street, a man in a light summer suit says “ I was standing on John Street looking at the Twin Towers when I saw the first plane hit. Everyone thought it was a missile attack, until the second plane smashed into the South Tower.”

I walk uptown, in a crowd of mostly silent, dazed, people, some are crying, some are wheezing painfully, a few laughing hysterically.
Around 11:00 am I arrive home, sweat soaked and totally nervous. I shower and wash my clothes, fearing radioactive, chemical or biological warfare.

Virginia is also afraid and urges me to leave the windows closed and the AC off. It is uncomfortably hot and I leave to process my film at the 1 hour lab on the next block. The streets are empty of cars but thronged with people. The subways have stopped running.

When I return with photos, my Mother has called. I can’t get through at first ‘cause the phones are working only sporadically. I call for news of my son. I learn he’s in Brooklyn at the home of a classmate.