ABSTRACT
ON THE MORNING OF THE 11TH I SLEPT A LITTLE LATER THAN USUAL AND, FOR SOME REASON, DID NOT TURN ON THE TELEVISION WHEN I WOKE UP, LYING FOR A TIME IN A PRE-COFFEE HAZE. It was election day and I eventually pulled myself together to head downstairs to vote on the way to work. Leaving my building, I turned right towards Sixth Avenue and immediately noticed something was amiss: traffic did not seem to be flowing and the street was filled with people looking south. My immediate assumption was an accident, a police action. Getting to the corner, I turned my gaze downtown and—thinking that what had happened was in the street—did not immediately see the object of the crowd’s attention. And then I looked up.
