I served my time in a prison of glass and steel, computers and screaming bodies frantic to ensnare copious profits from unsuspecting investors. The Stock Exchange paraded her wares across a global flesh market in undecipherable numbers and symbols created for a sophisticated but small band of auctioneers.
September 11, 2001 granted me freedom, no longer a slave to the diaphanous dream of wealth and privilege.
I live at the ocean, at peace with dolphin and gull, sand and wind. My peace is interrupted only by the scalding memory of those events so close to me that I touched and felt and died a little that day.