“There really are no more words, so I will let this stand as is, and repost. My September 11 experience. (It doesn’t get easier to read 14 years later, and the photos aren’t fuzzy yet with the gauze of time. Warm, healing hugs to all who were affected in any way. ) (((hugs ❤ ))”
(The following is LONG. It is emotional and it is depressing. Since I started blogging, I have written something about the events of 9-11, and I have linked to a website where a very small part of the following is posted. This year, I have simply consolidated the entire scrapbook and writings that are in it, and created a new gallery on my photo website so all is viewable and archived.)
Wishing you all peace. Hugs to you, Kerin. Jessica. Arlie. Anoki. Love you.
I was a writer who couldn’t write, a photographer who couldn’t record images. A crier who couldn’t cry. The events of September 11, 2001, had such an effect on me that my normal outlets—tears, hysteria, the stability of an ordered sentence, the capturing of my impressions on film, all proved elusive.
View original post 6,738 more words