What time is it?

It's night time.  I have been sleeping for an hour, waking for three, lying there for an hour then getting up to eat chocolate and blog.

Jane's apartment has a view of the Statue out of the dining windows, you have to stand in a certain spot, but in Manhattan that is still a view of the Statue.  She lives in a gorgeous old sandstone building with beautiful carved window arches and a vaulted ceiling in the lobby.

If I held a quarter out of the bedroom window and dropped it it would land on ground zero.  About 50 metres away is the new Freedom Tower.  It is half finished and will rise another 50 something stories when it is. It is lit up like Christmas and with the light that bleeds into the apartment I can't tell if the sun is about to come up or not.

They are working on the site seven days a week and start at 6.30 with a truck the size of my house with a jackhammer on the end of it.

They have left the footprints of the two towers which will be fountains eventually.  At present they are large square holes about 30 metres deep.

There is a store across from the WTC site called Century 21.  It is where all designer clothes that don't sell in the department stores go to be snapped up at next to nothing,  It is heaven and it is hell.  There are hundreds of people there at any given time and it is huge and you get into a strange consume headspace.  There are no windows and it becomes like a casino, where time disappears and you must have that one more thing.

As we walk there we pass the memorial wall to the WTC, I find it strange that people come to take photos of it, even after ten years.   It is a bronze plaque about 10 metres long.  I don't know what is on it, it is always blocked by dozens of people taking photos of it.

Jane and Jackson have a cat, Zero.  It is psychotic.  If you get within a metre of it it hisses and spits and attacks.  I bought a pair of lace top stockings which were sex on a stick, walked out to the hall and psycho cat attacked.  They were binned and now I have thick tights on 'cause  legs that look like you have been raking them with a fork are not sexy.

I thought I'd try to win the cat over by feeding it, didn't work.  I thought if I could just get it really fat maybe it would be too lazy to attack.  I'll keep working on that.  If nothing else works we are on the twentieth floor, do cats always land on their feet?