A legacy of silent voices

ON SEPTEMBER 22, 2001, I looked down on the smouldering ruins of the former World Trade Center from the top floor of an adjacent building.

The entrance to the building was inside the so-called “frozen zone” where access was restricted to emergency personnel, officials and journalists.

I can still feel the way my stomach lurched when I stood at the edge of the roof. We were only on the 23rd floor and it was already a long way down.