I walked to the Brooklyn promenade last night to look at the lights, which are still my favorite tribute to that day. Somehow they seem to have a ephemeral, poetic justice that a building can never have. Especially the “inventive” specimens proposed by over inventive architectural firms.
When I got to the promenade, I could still smell the powdery smell of burning drywall. It hung in every subway stop and drifted along the tunnels, pushed by subway cars. I think I will remember that smell forever.