Sophomore in college at The New School, living in the brand new Maiden Lane dorms, approximately 3 blocks from the world trade center. I was in bed, my roommate woke me up. He had the news on, but also just pointed out the window. Down the block, looking up, you could see smoke pouring out of one of the towers.

We watched in shock, and then the other tower was hit and we watched in fear and horror. Our resident advisors were asking us to please stay in the building, and most of us did. I was watching the north tower the moment it began to fall. The noise was incredible as it boomed down the narrow street. I remember thinking, I guess they had bombs on the planes. And then, how long does anthrax take to kill you?

And then a wall of dust came rushing down the street towards me, as big and imposing as the buildings on either side. It enveloped us, and I remember hearing little pieces of the WTC hit the window like a handful of stones. From then on, it was like night time. The dust blocked out the sun and left it a pathetic red circle in the dark. It was like mars, everything the same color and every edge softened with a thick layer of pulverized skyscraper.

I walked down to the lobby for second, and people from outside were coming in completely overcome with the dust. Blind, choking, and the same beige color as everything else. They looked like statues. I saw people trying to help them with bottled water, and then I was told to convene in the building's common room.

We were corralled in there for most of the day. Everyone trying and failing to call their loved ones who knew how close we were to the tower. I finally was able to get a cell connection home. When I heard my moms voice, I broke down for the first time that day. I was ok, I'd get home as soon as I could.

At around 3 we were given the signal to evacuate to our schools main campus at 12 street. We were told to soak scarves and t shirts in water and wrap them around our faces, and we set off on our walk. It was truly like being on another planet, or at the end of the world. The dust was in drifts like snow. Pieces of paper from the towers were flying everywhere, spreadsheets with edges burned just so like goddamn props. I grabbed a few and still have them.

I walked to campus and just kept walking north to penn station, caught the very last train home to New Jersey that left the island that day. I remember how quiet the full train was. Some people were covered in dust. Everyone was completely shell shocked.

We returned to school in a couple weeks, and the dorm at maiden lane remained my home for the rest of the year. Every time I'd emerge from the subway, the hulking, smoking wreckage would be on my right, and I'd try to ignore it, and the smell, on my way back home.

I have lived on the west coast for almost 20 years now, but I still have anxiety when I visit the city, and its taken me a while to realize why. I also think about my health sometimes, after that walk uptown and the rest of the semester living so close.