This was on Church Street (I'm pretty sure it was Church, and soon to be Mosque!) just a few blocks away from where those buildings depicted in the mural (does that really count as a mural, or is it more of just a wall painting?) used to stand. I don't remember the giant hands and rosary in the sky that morning, but there was some crazy shit going on that day, trust me.
Maybe one of those hands could have grabbed the planes and crushed them like when King Kong did with that helicopter when was up there back in 1976. And where the hell was King Kong when we needed him? He could have helped those people to the roof instead of them having to jump.
I think as New Yorkers we still don't know how to deal with that day on the most basic, individual level. I sure can't. But maybe we're not supposed to know how to deal? I mean, is being able to compartmentalize such an experience a good thing? Can we keep it uncompartmentalized without constantly wallowing in it?
I hear helicopters outside.
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