This Sunday, ten years ago, I was not living in the US. I had an apartment with my then-boyfriend, and was watching TV that night. I saw a plane hit the Twin Towers, and I thought “Hm, I have never seen that movie before …”. I changed channels to see what else was on (I guess I was not in the mood for that type of movie …). The next channel showed the exact same thing. The same movie on two different stations? What an oddity. When I switched to the third channel, it dawned on me that what I saw was not a movie after all. I called my boyfriend downstairs and we both sat in front of the TV, staring, mouths agape. At that point I did not know anybody in the States. But I could not believe what was happening. I could not believe that the most powerful nation in the world was suddenly at war with a merciless enemy.

Now, ten years leater, I am here in Washington, DC, and I am trying to figure out how I feel about the 10th anniversary that is coming up on Sunday. Since I moved here I have talked to friends and how they experienced the horrid day in 2001. For me though the horror remains somewhat distant. And I hope that it will remain that way …

While reading the papers today, and all the stories about 9/11, I came across a small section in one paper (Express) that had really short stories of people that survived that day. One of them really touched me, and I realized that amidst a tragedy there can be a moment of light, no matter how small …

 Mr Linderman’s story had a great impact on me, my current daily struggles and the way I view my life right now. It gave me hope that, one day, the light will break through the darkness again and dissolve the clouds surrounding my soul and heart.