By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
It was the posters that finally made it real.
Everyone has a 9/11 story. Mine isn’t all that exceptional. I was in Midtown Manhattan that morning, preparing for a sales trip to New Jersey. I’d been awake since about 2 AM, working on a project for work.
When the sirens first started, I didn’t think much of it. At least at first. But they kept going… and going… and going. Finally I looked out of the window and saw the column of smoke rising into the clear pale-blue air—and realized something serious was going on.
Then I turned on the TV and saw what everyone else did: the smoke, the helicopters, the collapse of the towers one by one.