The Disaster of Terrorism的灾难by Craig KielburgerNew York has an energy of its own, and that late summer evening, I truly understood why. All around me the city was alive with activity as everyone headed in different directions. The Big Apple's fabled ambition, wealth, and power were on full display, in the sleek cars stopped by the curb, the bright windows of the bustling restaurants, and the studied nonchalance of stylish young people out on the town. As I cut through the financial district, I passed the Twin Towers, shimmering in the streetlights. Then came the next morning. Even before I heard what was happening, it was clear that something was terribly wrong: there was an unfamiliar edge of desperation to the city's usual hectic pace. At a friend's house, uneasy but unsure why, I turned on the TV news. Within seconds, I saw one, then another, plane crash into the World Trade Center. Time stopped．I was hit by the sickening realization that what I was seeing was real. I found it difficult to breathe as I stared blankly at the television scene. The horror hit me in waves, each more intense than the last.