Those who catch them talk hurriedly to families, friends, people in other cities, children in their homes. As we walk out into the sunlight, I am so happy to be in this company, the company of people who are alright, those who walked out. I kept thinking of how much I have left to do in my life, so many things that are undone, people I haven't spoken to in years. It's overwhelming to feel everyone around me thinking the same thing, the restless thoughts trickling over this bridge as we come back to Brooklyn. From the Promenade I stand with hundreds of others, listening to radios, watching the plumes of smoke and the empty holes in the skyline.
People stand there for a long time, talk to one another in hushed tones.
Someone hands out a flier for a vigil this evening, which I will go to after I give blood. It is not the entire story. I saw an old man with breathing problems and two black kids in baggy pants and ghetto gear rubbing his back, talking to him. No one was rioting or looting. Everyone I talked to agreed to go give blood.