I was walking back from lunch with a client just by the steps to the Lloyds Building in the city when we heard a few whispers that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center in New York City. The whispers got more frantic and we walked into a nearby office and watched the tragic drama unfold on a television.
My client had a sister in New York and was desperate for news of her, while I thought about my colleagues that occupied 8 of the top floors in the No. 2 South Tower. 176 of whom sadly lost their lives, 2,606 altogether at the WTC site and 2,977 in total not including the 19 cowardly hijackers.
That terrible day still doesn't seem real, it was so horrific that even the most creative of film writer hadn't thought of a plot so deplorable.
In 1996 I came pretty close to working in that South Tower but someone upstairs was looking out for me because it didn't happen, but still I had spent quite a bit time on the 105th floor before 9/11 watching out of the window at the helicopters and clouds gliding silently below.
What happened on that awful Tuesday morning stunned me like everyone else and I thought I realised the magnitude of it all, but I didn't fully until I moved to the U.S. a year later. Almost everyone I have ever met, particularly in NYC has a story of that day to tell. Some are happy to talk about it, some are not.
Today will be a day of reflection and pride as the National September 11 Memorial opens where the Twin Towers once stood.