Deep in the Heart of Brooklyn, is a new blog from OTBKB fave and guest blogger, Brooklyn Beat. Here’s an excerpt from a post called "9/11: Metaphors for Living."

It would not be too farfetched to say that there was something
positively volcanic about the sight of the burning building in the
distance, as though a fault had erupted and some intense steam and fire
and brimstone from the bowels of the earth had been channelled to the
surface.I debarked at Union Square and began to make my way north and
west. My daughter was at a classmate’s apartment on 28th and 7th
avenue. When I arrived there were about a dozen girls hanging out, who
this mom had wonderfully rescued from the boredom of waiting to be
picked up at school. While there, I spoke to my mother. I knew the
address was familiar. She has a cousin who lives in the same building.
We managed to find her and check on her before my daughter and I
embarked on the trek home.We went to one train station but it was
closed. We walked further east and Union Square again had no trains
running. The transit workers suggested we try West 4th Street. As we
walked along the streets, the sky was filled with the huge plume of
smoke. My ears rang with the desperate clamour of the rescue vehicles
that would resound, non stop for what seemed like several days. There
was virtually no traffic in the street except the occasional emergency
vehicle.As we crossed Sixth Avenue, our faces were pelted with a fine
mist of grit and dust blowing from the southern tip of Manhattan. I
still don’t want to think what was in that fine power that we brushged
from our faces and clothes. Miraculously, the F was running and we took
it into Brooklyn to my old stop at 15th Street and Prospect Park West.