A little late to be posting this but I wanted to remember what happened that day.
I was living in Singapore at that time. My father was scheduled to fly to the U.S. that day and had left for the airport. We went to sleep as usual, thinking that all is as it should be. I woke up in the morning to get ready for school and saw my father sleeping on the couch in the living room. I was very surprised of course and asked him, "Aren't you supposed to be in America?"
Sitting up with a tired look he said, "Turn on the TV."
I sat there shocked. A complete loss for words. Horrified at the footage, at how people just died. Videos of people running through the street, their bodies covered in dust and soot. Streams of tears created dark lines down their faces were shown. The world had changed.
I went to school as usual though, people laughed and played as usual. Classes went on. Don't you all know what happened? No one seemed to know or care about what had happened. I overheard a few teachers talk about it, from their tone, it was clear they felt minimal remorse.
Even now, today, 13 years on. People in Asia still did not understand the gravity of the situation. People joke about it on the streets. "It is only important because it happened in America" They say. "It is not such a big deal" They say. "Stop talking about it" They say. This type of apathy seemed prevalent nowadays.
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