I had two flashes of normalcy today. First ... when I was walking up that slope in the 42nd street subway to get to Port Authority. That only lasted until I got outside and saw the cops and police tape again. The other flash ... going through the Lincoln Tunnel.

That's it.

I left Aaron's around 4. First time being in the city ... in daylight since ... the attack. No words are needed. I walked down the steps and pushed the door out the sidewalk. No words. The expression on the faces. You don't need words. Don't need them and can't really say them either. Everyone's telepathic right now. As my eyes met with people on the sidewalk ... I could just tell. You can just tell. I felt weird after a while. I felt I was going back into shock or something. People on the train were reading papers. I felt I needed a break for a while. To not see the images for a while. Just a little while. I couldn't be distracted and I started getting creeped out.

I got to Grand Central and my breathing became heavier. Sorta like a panic attack. I didn't want anyone to touch me. I didn't want anyone to touch me and I didn't want to see any more images and I didn't want to hear about it. I took the shuttle over to Times Square and only became more panicky. I felt crowed. Like everyone was falling in on me.

"Please don't touch me. Don't touch me," I found myself whispering.

I took the 1 ... I think. 1 or 9 to 14th Street. Roadblocks and cops everywhere. Cops and military personnel. No one can ever be the same again. My mood got increasingly sad. My eyes became wide and I just absorbed pretty much everything.

I'm not an American citizen. But right now ... I feel that the 'resident' part of American resident has been cut off. It doesn't matter now. For now ... I'm just the 'American'. And I swear ... when I stopped a street vendor and gazed down at the dew rags they had ... I had to get one. I just had to. I barely had any money on me to get that and still get home ... but I had to.

It's as if something was pushing me. My legs wouldnt work. I leaned over.

"How much are your dew rags?" I asked.

"Three dollars."

"I need one."

I must've looked like a maniac cuz I sure felt like one. I felt myself in this sorta zombie-like daze. Yet ... my eyes were wide open. I paid and told him I didn't need a bag. I wanted to slap it on my head right then and there but I didn't I put it in my pack. I swear ... I felt a little better after buying it. Like that was somehow a great accomplishment for me.

I walked over to Husani's. We went out on the fire-escape. He helped me put the stupid dew rag on and we talked. We talked a good long while. Talked about what we were doign when he first heard about the attack. Husani's said he's no longer an athiest. I'm glad. He said he woke up and was gonna head into the city when something told him to go back to sleep. He did. If he didn't ... he would've been at the World Trade Center at exactly ... the wrong time.

I told him I didn't want to be alone and he said he'd sleep over. But then after talking I felt a lot better and he had work to finish up so I left and told him I'd be ok.

A lot of people were gathered in Union Square. I stopped and listened as this girl played the bagpipes. I can't remember what she was playing but it was amazingly beautiful. Again ... no words were needed as I look at the faces. I walked back to 14th Street, took the 1 to 42nd and came home. Strangest thing when I got home ... I close the door and there's four dollars in the floor. I have no idea how it got there. I couldn't dropped any money since I have none to drop right now. It's as if someone pushed it under the door. But who ... and why? Just strange to find four one-dollar bills like that. It's just incredible since I barely have any money at all right now. Miracles are real, that's all I have to say.