I've only seen one brief shot this morning of the incident as it was recorded from that fateful day. It was of the burning towers, with trapped people waving their arms, hanging out of open windows, shaking scarves or articles of clothing, trying to draw attention from some hopeful rescuer.
Than I thought, we know the fate of everyone of them. No rescuer made it that day. We didn't know that when we saw the horror unfold before our eyes. When it was happening, we could only hope along with them that somehow they'd make it down, or that brave firemen would make their way up to them. Each one of those people who made their way to a window, smashing it if they had to, came to it because it was their last hope, the last clear opening.
And as they stood there looking out, waiting, it was as if they were looking out at us, and we were all watching them. And as we watched, and they waited, was there some level where we all new what the truth was? That they were waiting to die, and we helplessly could do nothing but witness their fate?