“I had grown weary of outsiders claiming the trauma of that day for themselves.
As a revenge fantasy.
As an excuse for war”
The following is from a series of musings on trauma, memory, community, and place. The introduction to the series and beginning essay [link] explains the purpose of this month of entries.
I remember in those days after “the Fall” attending a memorial concert at Lincoln Center.
Beverly Mills gave a little speech.
Classical music was played.
Originating on another continent and from another era.
We are “civilized”, after all.
Which appears to mean voluntarily living in someone else’s past.
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