I remember details about many things in my few years on earth, but I do not always remember events with emotional clarity. I do remember September 11, 2001. I remember the horrified pit in my stomach sitting in the student center, watching the planes fly into the towers. Over. And over. And over.
I remember trying to imagine what those people must have felt, trapped, before the collapse; the feel of death surrounding me.
I remember the curious fear, walking around downtown Chicago where I lived, wondering whether a winged metal tube would bullet through the blue sky and explode our skyline.
My emotional memory is blurred for many things, but I remember what I felt then. The American dream and the dream of youth were both rent for me that day. The evil “over there” had come into my house.
The experience of evil turns us to the big questions...
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