Outside it's so quiet right now. A beautiful,
late Summer night. There is a dog barking in the distance; you'd never hear that over the
tunnel traffic on
a normal night.
The sirens have slowed to about three or four an hour. Occasionally a fighter jet comes overhead.
On the TV there seem to be three different loops: First, what happened? Then, who did it? Later, what will we do to them?
I haven't talked to anyone today nor heard anyone in the media capable of even considering the question of how many people are dying under that still-smoldering crush of debris. Thousands might be dying about five miles from my bedroom window. There's nothing that can be done about that. There's no amount of vengeance to answer that question.