Eleven years ago I was in my living room in Ulan Bataar, the capital city of Mongolia (long story) watching CNN when a plane "accidentally" ran into one of the twin towers.
I was watching a live feed when the second hit and I knew the thing I'd been trying to ignore for the previous minutes was right: It was no accident.
I returned home five days later, to a version of the United States I didn't recognize.
Everyone I knew, though most were thousands of miles from the site of the attack, was changed. Irreperrably and undeniably, inherently altered.
I will never forget.
I was watching a live feed when the second hit and I knew the thing I'd been trying to ignore for the previous minutes was right: It was no accident.
I returned home five days later, to a version of the United States I didn't recognize.
Everyone I knew, though most were thousands of miles from the site of the attack, was changed. Irreperrably and undeniably, inherently altered.
I will never forget.
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