This is the final sketch made from the roof of Cooper Union where Graham Shane's glass on Urban matters sat watching the burning towers.

When this drawing began there was a tower still in it. I had to white it out when it suddenly vanished in a two-tone plume of white and black smoke.

The bottom of the page read "Gone, Fallen." It was an instantaneous attempt to realize what had just happened by printing it on the page. As soon as I wrote it I realized that by the time this sketch was finished, that would be news to no one anymore. When I removed the tower with the white smoke, I also removed the record of my own shock.

At the moment of the fall I cried, guessing that around 3000 people had just perished right in front of me while I sat helpless but for the paper in my lap.

I guess that helplessness is what bonded the residents of the city in the aftermath. Millions of desperate helpers reached out to nowhere. Bloodbanks were full, I'm type O and they turned me away. There was nothing that could be done. At least I could draw.