WTC

Tuesday 11 September 2001. I remember every single thing of that fateful day. Memories are stuck in my mind for a lifetime. No words can express the utter disbelief that I felt then, eight years ago to the day, glued to my TV screen, my vision blurred by the tears in my eyes. No words can relate that tragedy. The sight of that plane heading for the emblematic skyscraper, which looked suddenly so very vulnerable. I remember seeing, along with millions of other traumatised human beings, the second plane crashing into the World Trade Center tower #2. I do remember, but it is like remembering a dream, not knowing whether what you experienced was reality or fantasy. I am not convinced that remembering a nightmare is actually less disturbing than experiencing it. A hell of a vision ; a vision of Hell. A sense that you are the only one left on Earth ; a sense that time has stopped. A sense of total disbelief, and yet the pictures on the screen seem so terribly genuine.

I so vividly remember the apocalyptic rumbling, as the Twin Towers were collapsing. The debris and the thin white dust covering just everything, lain on the city like a lead weight. How ironic : lead and asbestos might eventually kill more people than the terrorist attacks per se. I remember beholding with awe what was from then on to be called Ground Zero, a graveyard in ruins. Not one single telephone, not one single chair, not one single human body that has not been completely pulverised. I remember haggard people, covered with ashes, as if wearing white veils, running around in panic, with no place to find shelter in. The white veil was actually more like a shroud. I also recollect the amazing sight of dozens of bodies falling from the towers in desperate and vain efforts to escape the heat and the smoke and the turmoil. I remember the fire-fighters' alarms echoing in all Manhattan. It was raining people, later said one of the many firemen present there that day. The deathly hush following the collapse of the Twin Towers, one after the other. The deafening silence that followed chaos, destruction and havoc, sound and fury. Retrospectively, it seems totally absurd and preposterous that people were actually ordered to go back to their offices, as if nothing had happened, as if no plane had ever crashed into the World Trade Center tower... May all the victims Rest In Peace and the real perpetrators of that unprecedented event be identified and punished.

English Session

Thursday o6 November 2008 | Today I'm going to write in English, as I have organised an English Conversation Session at Le Comptoir. I was in Orly during the day, and everything went smooth there. When I arrived at 8:00 AM, the airport was covered with very thick fog, giving a ghost-like appearance to people smoking outside and a phantasmagorical look to the buildings. Weather cleared up after a while. At 4:30  PM I left the airport and took the OrlyBus heading for Denfert; I had planned to quickly meet up with my brother in the Indiana Café and then planned to go and pick up a parcel at a laundry located not far from Denfert. But I ended up spending more time than I though in the Indiana Café, because my brother had invited our Parisian aunt to join us. Needless to say, I was very happy to see them both, but that resulted in my not having enough time to pick up my parcel before heading for Le Comptoir. I just could not afford to be late, as I was the one who organised this English Conversation Session. Consequently, I took the Métro Line 6, got a connection at Pasteur, and arrived a little early at Le Comptoir, where one person had already showed up. There were 6 or 7 of us, discussing in a friendly way in English, in a relaxed atmosphere. At 9:00 PM, I left the place and walked westbound to meet up my girlfriend at her place, after she also had quite a long and exhausting day. I finally got home around 1:30 AM, and I had got up at 6:30 AM the day before! Good thing I could have a little nap in my Resource Centre in Orly; I will finish the week quite knackered, but this is another story... Except a little frustation regarding the non collection of my parcel, I had a very nice day. I think I will launch another Conversation Session before the end of the year, due to popular demand.

Tue. 11 Sept. 2001 || Tue. 11 Sept. 2007

Tuesday 11 September 2001. I remember every single thing of that fateful day. Memories are stuck in my mind for a lifetime. No words can express the utter disbelief that I felt then, six years ago to the day, glued to my TV screen, my vision blurred by the tears in my eyes. No words can relate that tragedy. The sight of that plane heading for the emblematic skyscraper, which looked suddenly so very vulnerable. I remember seeing, along with millions of other traumatised human beings, the second plane crashing into the World Trade Center tower #2. I do remember, but it is like remembering a dream, not knowing whether what you experienced was reality or fantasy.  I am not convinced that remembering a nightmare is actually less disturbing than experiencing it. A hell of a vision ; a vision of Hell. A sense that you are the only one left on Earth ; a sense that time has stopped. A sense of total disbelief, and yet the pictures on the screen seem so terribly genuine. 

Vive l'EUROPE !

Lu sur une affichette au mur d'un des bureaux où je bosse parfois : 

"HEAVEN is where the police are British, the cooks are French, the mechanics are German, the lovers are Italian and it's all organised by the Swiss. HELL is where the police are German, the cooks are British, the mechanics are French, the lovers are Swiss and it's all organised by the Italians !"

Et une pensée pour Luciano Pavarotti, dont nous avons eu la chance d'être les contemporains...