A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Alexander Pope

I was 16 when the towers came down. I had just come home from school and sat myself in front on the TV. Sky 1 was showing some Indiana Jones knock off when a breaking news banner scrolled across the screen. By the time I had turned to the news, both buildings had already collapsed onto themselves and the footage was being replayed endlessly. The video of the second plane hitting was being shown in a continuous loop, an already burning North Tower shown as moments later another plane would disappear into the South Tower. The next days I sat and watched the footage over and over again, the building imploding, a hole in the pentagon, a man with a brief case, his face reddened and handkerchief pushed to his mouth as a makeshift gas mask, a hole of burnt and blackened grass where a plane had found its way to the ground. New words names and places would enter my vocabulary Al-Qaeda, Bin Laden, Afghanistan. Days and weeks would pass and more footage would be added to the loop, Bin Ladan with an AK-47, rescue teams at ground Zero. But at some point, during the days or weeks after, sat there, watching the building come down for the thousands time, I thought to myself, “That looks like one of those controlled explosions”.
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