January, 2002, Montréal Today, I return from New York. I saw the wound. It was dry and crumbling and smelt bad. I looked through thin cracks in high walls to see the rocky foundations full of debris. Four months later, there are still fires smouldering underground. Above ground are the black faces of charred buildings with broken windows. Above ground, everything is black. The street vendors are already selling paraphanaeliac photographs and caps with 'ground zero' embroidered on them. Tourists are holding smiling poses for disposable cameras. It took 4 months before I could even look at such a terrible scar. My first sensation was to vomit, and my second instinct was to walk to the benches by the water and pray. I stared at Lady Liberty's floating statue and I thought of Tennyson's words: He says that "freedom is a must" It is not a question, it is not an answer. FREEDOM IS A MUST. It boils inside of us bringing forth creation. You cannot sew the wound. Out of it comes truth, poetry and knowledge.

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