I had just arrived to the US three days prior, that fateful morning eleven years ago. I woke up to a chilly Pacific Northwest Fall morning, washed, gotten dressed, and was getting ready to have breakfast before heading off to school with my sister. Then the phone rang, and it was my mother who was in Hong Kong. She didn't say much, just told me to switch on the television and watch the news. There was this really old set in my living room, one of those old bulky one that still used CRT. The quality of it was pitiful, staticky at times, and with pretty faded colors. But we were having breakfast, so we just turned that on. I still remember to these days the footage I saw when the television flickered on. The commercial airliner crashing into a familiar tall building. I remember thinking to myself, this can't be true, this must be CGI, because this just can't be true. It made no sense. It happened eleven years ago, but I remember everything as if they happened last week.
Eleven years had passed, Hussein and Bin Laden are both dead, and it still doesn't make any sense.