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12:00 p.m., Friday, September 21, 2001

A morning of contrasts. I can't seem to keep away from the War Zone, especially after last night. At about 11 p.m., I walked toward the downtown area and looked into the distance. Dense clouds, illuminated by the eerie white glow of industrial lights, punctuated the vast emptiness of the space where the World Trade Center used to stand. All was silent, still, except the sound of disaster workers' equipment.

This morning, drawn again into the Zone, the contrasts began, pulling me between pride and horror like a tug-of-war for my emotions. Posters invited rescue workers, firefighters and police officers to use the facilities of a spa for free -- equipment, showers, massages. On the same displays were posters of the missing. National Guard lines barricaded the disaster area, but the soldiers maintained their mission with as much dedication as they have from the first day. Hundreds, if not thousands, of relief workers blanket the area; McDonald's has set up a station, covered in flags, to help feed the workers.

A woman passed by, choking from the smoke, as down the street, a police officer handed a face mask to the mother of a child. Flags adorn most windows, but the windows remain shut to keep the metallic taste of the air out of the homes.

Signs of hate: "Osama bin Laden Wanted Dead or Alive" and signs of peace: "Stand united as a nation AND as a world."

I took a few photos of the more positive side of humanity. But I still left with a bitter taste in my mouth.