Tuesday, 10 September 2002 | Anniversary

It almost feels like any other week, except for the review of disturbing details, and that people are talking about it more, retelling the same stories they've told all year long with dwindling frequency, until this week's resurgence. Except they are telling the stories in conjunction with hindsight rather than wonder, and they seem to have defined opinions rather than shapeless emotions. I have participated in a few of these conversations, and I've seen a few of the outdoor exhibits erected all over the city; today I saw giant brownish canvases painted with single drops of blood from thousands of different people in different cities. Or sad or hopeful notes scribbled on colored construction paper fastened to a board at Union Square. But I've really just let it wash over me so far, I suppose just waiting to see what will happen in front of me and in my head when the actual day arrives. I have strictly avoided the TV, for fear of hearing any more God Bless Americas and Let's Rolls. I wish the memorial didn't feel so polluted.