Daniel Anyone reading this webpage should know who I am by now, but if you don't, I'm Daniel and this is my website!
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	Aungela Aungela and I met my freshman year of university and have been friends ever since. She's a fellow traveller so it was natural for her to meet up with me in New York. Last year she and I also travelled to Egypt together.
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	Starr Starr is a friend of Aungela's back in California and came along for a quick two-day jaunt out to the East Coast to visit the World Trade Center along with Aungela and me. Starr departed on Monday whereas Aungela and I left the city on Wednesday.

October 2002 As long as I've known that there existed skyscrapers, I've wanted to visit New York City. As a teenager I used to sit in my bedroom sometimes sketching highrises for fun in my free time and reading pop science magazine articles about skyscrapers and buildings of the future. The World Trade Center towers always had an irresistible pull on me but growing up on the West Coast of the United States they just seemed to be a world away. Then, when I started traveling the planet and living and working in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, my flights passed through JFK Airport or over the city all together and it just never worked out that I had spent any time in New York City. After all, "The World Trade Center towers will always be there for me to visit," I thought. "It's just a matter of penciling the skyscrapers into my busy overall schedule. Some day." As we all know, those towers aren't there anymore. I have a motto in life: it's a big world and don't worry that you can't see it all at once. Whatever it is you want to visit will always be there for you, and if it's not, you'll be glad you weren't there the day it disappeared. These words ring in my ears every time I think about the World Trade Center. I was scheduled to be in New York City on the morning of September 11th to drop a friend off at Newark Airport at 6:30 a.m. at the end of a rushed extended weekend trip to New York State. I planned to drop her off at the airport at 6:30 a.m. and then drive out to Manhattan and was looking forward to being at the World Trade Center sometime around 8 a.m. I imagined I would walk around photographing the towers in the morning sun and then would take the elevator up to the top of Windows on the World once those opened up sometime around 9 or 10 a.m. Fortunately though, my friend's trip was cancelled at the very last minute and I ended up not visiting New York City after all. Instead, that morning I was greeted by bold news headlines on yahoo.com stating, "World Trade Center destroyed in apparent terrorist attack." Incomprehensible. Just over a year later in October 2002 I found myself planning a quick two-week trip from Saudi Arabia (where I'm currently living) to Lake Tahoe to attend a family wedding and decided that this time I would schedule a stop in New York City. I wanted to see the World Trade Center site before it were built over and made to appear as though it had never existed. I wanted to see the empty site for what it currently is: a giant pit of death and emptiness. One day it will be beautiful and full of life again, and I will see it again then too, but now it's a dead zone and I wanted to see that. To experience this snapshot of history. My pilgrimage to September 11th started not at the World Trade Center site itself, but rather in Grand Central Station at Park Avenue and 42nd Street. Since our hotel was located at Madison Avenue and 40th Street, Aungela, Starr and I decided to do a little stroll through the local neighborhood before subwaying ourselves down to Lower Manhattan and walked through Midtown Manhattan and wound up at Grand Central. Unknown to us prior to our arrival, in one of the exit corridors leading out to 42nd Street is a smallish memorial board constructed so that people can pay tribute to the dead by putting up small posters of the deceased and hand scribbled notes of condolence. The memorial was an unexpected and emotional find. One minute we were joking and strutting through Grand Central Station and the next moment we found ourselves wrapped up in the grief and sadness of September 11th. As I walked around the memorial I was struck by all the faces of the victims. These were real people with real lives with real families and real friends. And now these men, women, and children were gone and those around them were left to grieve in their absence. It only took reading through a couple of the posters of the deceased before tears started welling up in my eyes. A father killed here. A mother murdered there. Two bothers burned to death on this one, and a fiancée buried under rubble on that one. It was all so tragic. So sick. "God, what must it be like to be a parent and have both your children killed in this horrible nightmare?" I wondered as I read through with blurred, watery vision. But I couldn't read through them all, and there were too many. I decided that if I wanted to retain my eyesight for the trek down to the World Trade Center, that I should best discontinue detailed reading and just photograph some of the posters, otherwise I'd be an uncontrollable sobbing wreck. So I backed off a bit and just wandered around the makeshift memorial and looked at the faces. Looked at the flags. Looked at the languages. I thought about the events of that day, and I thought about death. As I made my way from panel to panel, I was reminded of the lyrics of what I consider to be an extremely sad song. It's from Peter Gabriel and is titled I Grieve. The original version can be found on the 1997 City of Angels movie soundtrack, or you can listen to a slightly revised version on his recently released 2002 album titled UP. I Grieve It was only one hour ago It was all so different then Nothing yet has really sunk in Looks like it always did   This flesh and bones It's just the way that you were tied in Now there's no-one home   I grieve. . . for you You leave. . . me   It's so hard to move on Still loving what's gone They say life carries on Carries on and on and on and on   The news that truly shocks Is the empty empty page While the final rattle rocks Its empty empty cage And I can't handle this   I grieve. . . for you And you leave. . . me   Let it out and move on Missing what's gone They say life carries on They say life carries on and on and on   Life carries on in the people I meet In everyone that's out on the street In all the dogs and cats In the flies and rats In the rot and the rust In the ashes and the dust   Life carries on and on and on and on Life carries on and on and on   It's just the car that we ride in The home we reside in The face that we hide in The way we are tied in   And life carries on and on and on and on Life carries on and on and on   Did I dream this belief? Or did I believe this dream? Now I can find relief   I grieve.

Once he had read enough through the memorial at Grand Central Station, we hopped on the subway and got off at the Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall stop where you are greeted and overwhelmed by what you're not greeted and overwhelmed with. Below, our first view of the World Trade Center towers.

At one time there would have been soaring twin towers seen rising in the background more than twice the height of the Woolworth Building on the right.

As you walk through City Hall Park and cross Broadway in the direction of the WTC, you are welcomed by St. Paul's Chapel, Manhattan's oldest public building and pre-Revolutionary church, built in 1766. One important 18th Century event at this chapel was a visit by America's first president George Washington who worshipped there regularly and walked in procession to St. Paul's from Federal Hall to attend a thanksgiving service shortly after his first inauguration. In the 21st Century, however, it serves as a mourning ground for the living, a tribute to the dead. St. Paul's Chapel is located directly across the street from the World Trade Center site, but it was left miraculously unscathed physically by the terror on September 11th.

Surrounding the church on all sides is a cast iron gate 8 feet (2.5) tall which has been turned into a massive memorial by family members of the victims, community organizations, city departments, company offices, as well as visitors, tourists, and modern day pilgrims. Tied to the gates are endless posters, notes, cards, photos, stories, flags and even a slew of baseball caps. The area is quiet with visitors mulling about, and just like the memorial at Grand Central Station, this memorial at St. Paul's Chapel is a heart wrencher. Unlike the Grand Central display, this one attached to the church gates goes on and on and on. . . for what seems like forever. Again, tears began collecting in the corners of my eyes. "God bless, from the United Kingdom." "Proud to be the friend of America, from Italy." "We suffer with you, from Germany." "Peace and love, from Japan." Those messages from abroad really mean a lot to me. I'm not sure why, although it may have something to do with me traveling around and meeting people here and there and always debating American domestic and foreign policy with them - friendly arguments often ensuing, but when America was savagely attacked we were able to see who America's true friends were, and who they weren't. We were able to see who wept in the streets and who celebrated. We were able to see who offered help selflessly, and who offered help conditionally. A generation from now I am convinced that there will be a not-so-pleasant line drawn in the sand between "us and them" reflecting exactly those nations whose people partied on 9/11 and those who didn't, and so seeing these messages of condolence and grief from America's true allies hanging endlessly on St. Paul's really got me.

Native Argentinean - proud American - nicknamed "Big Daddy" - fantastic cook - the life of the party - loving son - protective big brother - affectionate friend - romantic soul mate and fiancé - nurturing uncle and Godfather - soccer fanatic - former police officer of the 46th precinct Sergio Gabriel Villanueva July 4th, 1968 - Eternity former Narcotics detective - cigar lover - proud owner of Inner Peace gift shop - avid pool player - Mets, Giants, and Rangers fan - history lover - eager learner - helpful neighbor - compassionate soul - embracer of life - follower of dreams - Firefighter, Engine 4 and Ladder 132 - fearless hero Dear Humanity, Sergio was one of the almost three thousand innocent victims whose lives were so senselessly taken on September 11th. Because of the magnitude of what happened that day, it will be hard for us to know all of the stories of each individual victim, but it is our responsibility as survivors to never forget that each victim had a story, that each victim's life was important, and above all, that each victim should have never been a victim in the first place. With the one year anniversary of the tragedy upon us, let us honor those lives by learning the lesson that they left us with that day - that we must realize how fragile life is. And with this, let us seize the opportunity to ensure that we take nothing in life for granted. . . Let us cherish and nurture those relationships that are dearest to us. Let us live our lives with no regrets, take chances, and follow our dreams. Let us be kind to one another, every minute of every day, and let us feel compassion for those that are less fortunate than us. Let us let go of our prejudices, and open our hearts to those that are different from us, for they enrich our lives by knowing them. Let us remember that for every person who is experiencing joy in this world, there is also a person experiencing pain, and let us be grateful for every experience, whether joyful or painful, because they are lessons for our growth. Let us be driven by our need for peace with one another and not by our greed for material gain. And most importantly, let us remember our own mortality, and what our ultimate questions to ourselves will be when our time inevitably comes: Am I loved? and Did I love well? As Sergio's fiancee, I have spent countless hours going over what his final moments were like that fateful morning. And though my heart will always be heavy with the sorrow of no longer having him here to create more wonderful memories with, I am so grateful for his last gift to all of us who are left here missing him so. . . the gift of peace that his answer to both questions was "yes". he left knowing he is so very loved, and that he loved so very well. With love and hope, Tanya Villanueva

As I wondered down Vesey Street and turned south onto Church Street with the WTC site to my back, still walking along the iron gate and looking at the memorials, I noticed a plethora of bright and colorful Japanese origami paper cranes. As if my mind had taken flight, I stood there looking at these tiny handmade creations and was suddenly reminded of a trip I had taken to Hiroshima with two German friends and a Japanese coworker back in 1999. Outside the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum commemorating the lives of those vaporized in the nuclear attack - as well as those who were unfortunate enough to actually survive - there stands a huge display of colorful little cranes comprising of thousands upon thousands of beautiful yet tragically sad strands of origami birds, each creature of flight representing the pain of death, the anguish of loss, yet the hope for peace. While in Hiroshima I remember seeing the charred remnants of buildings leveled by the bomb, images of people vaporized by the blast, and pictures of survivors stumbling around with sheets of skin falling off their radiated and distorted bodies. I remember feeling so disgusted with humanity. So reviled by our lust for war. So repulsed by our ability to destroy. Yet all around Hiroshima were these little birds. So utterly sad, but so beautifully hopeful. And here I was, three years later in my own country, on my own soil, surrounded by the same strands of cranes. Death was here. It was all around me. Behind me soared the World Trade Center towers. Above me was the roaring sound of jet engines crashing and igniting. Around me were the bodies of falling victims. In all directions was the wreckage of 220 floors of people and their lives. In me was a rage. A repulsion with our existence. A hate against the people who had done this to us, and to me. Against those who had put this wicked emotion in my heart. But before me hung this strand of color made by a people who know the ravages of war, a people who know how to make it and a people who also know what it's like to be a victim of it. In light of this, my nation's former enemies have overcome and persevered, and they have brought with them their birds to New York City. At that moment I hated those cranes. I hated the death they represented. I hated the malice that drew them here. I hated the ignorance and lack of understanding within the human race they reflected as they sparkled in my eyes. I hated that war and murder in the world never seems to end. I simply hated. I hated. Yet these cranes and their message remained - a remembrance of the tragedy of war, but also of the hope for peace. The belief that despite our darkest tendencies, our true nature as a species is one of hope. A slow, but unending progression forward. A progression toward expanding our minds. Toward learning about the unknown. Toward confronting ignorance. Toward understanding. Toward enlightenment. Toward consensus. Toward peace. Peace is not here now. It wasn't here on September 11th. But it is out there somewhere. Buried deep in our minds is the seed of hope, illuminated in me beside this place of death by a lonely strand of colorful little Japanese cranes folded by the devoted hands of someone who refuses to let the shadows of hate cloak the light of hope and the dream of peace.

Among the ruins of the World Trade Center were found innumerable crosses from the frame of the towers, a sign of hope to many Christians.

Surrounding the 16 acre site is a fence which keeps the public at a safe distance from the pit. While much of the fence is wrapped in an opaque sheath, there are several uncovered sections allowing open viewing.

The view from Liberty Street. Aside from the destruction of the Twin Towers, five other office buildings were destroyed that day including 7 World Trade Center highrise which is now represented by the empty space between the two buildings center-right. If news reports are to be believed, then 7 WTC will be the first building rebuilt on the site.

After the first attack on the World Trade Center in 1993 I remember thinking, "What idiots! Who do these people think they are pretending they can knock down such magnificent structures!" And now just look at them.

Above: as long as I can remember it had always been my dream to one day travel to New York City, stand between the two World Trade Center towers, look up, and be amazed by their dual soaring verticality. I wanted to put my hands along the edge of the buildings where they form a 90-degree angle and just watch as the line disappeared into the sky above. And of course, being the camera junkie that I am, I had dreamt of the shots I could get of the experience as well. The angles. The lighting. The shadows. Sadly, that dream has been taken away and is gone now. I did, however, remain true to the dream of pointing my camera skyward at the World Trade Center. All I saw was a puffy white cloud and a jet plane flying coincidentally above.

One of the most poignant thoughts I had as I walked around the World Trade Center was how ironic it was that the above building, damaged by the collapse of the WTC towers, now stood over Lower Manhattan draped in a giant black cloak just like the women of the nations from which the psychos of September 11th came. It would seem that Bin Ladin's religious fantasy has come true on the grandest of scales.

Above left: the Millenium Hilton building on Church Street located just across the street from the World Trade Center. Above right: an image sourced in a Trinity Church publication taken by a church employee as the South Tower collapsed. Notice how tiny the black tower appears in the picture. For reference, the WTC towers were approximately two-and-a-half times the height of this black tower.

West Street with the World Financial Center on the left and the World Trade Center would on the right. In the six proposals so far to rebuild the WTC, West Street is buried below ground in a tunnel and covered with grass or some sort of park area. Apparently the street has never been that well liked by locals and many look forward to getting rid of it as it terminates just south of this location anyways.

This is a non-profit educational website. All supplementary imagery is used purely for educational purposes. Except where noted, all text and images: copyright 2002, danielschereck.com