Monday, September 17, 2001

Waking frequently in the middle of the night, in a different place, I didn't put my glasses on, the view from the 25th floor, looking south, was clear enough. Smoldering all night, this non-stop crematorium that I can't look at for very long, and can't not look at for very long. Earlier, on the roof, we looked south from here, 22nd and Park Ave., and it had an eerie mushroom-cloud look. He guided me to the north side of the building, for a different view, for a chance to have a few gentle kisses, to share some of the emotion that can't be adequately articulated .