I was going to write something long and personal about this day five years ago, what I did, what it was like, but it occurred to me that what I did and how I felt is not very interesting. I did what many people did: I cried, I called my mom, I found my friends, I prayed, I ate pasta, I drank a lot of beer, I went to bed hoping it was all a dream, and woke up to find I was still living in a nightmare.
It’s better five years on, but that feeling comes back sometimes, either way, at least one thing is constant, I still love New York.
A Chicken In Every Granny Cart 
People Are Clucking About