A bird's-eye view.

Even from high up, you can't see the bottom of the fountains. Their mysterious, unknowable depths are fascinating—and such a powerful metaphor.

The Serenity Prayer.

Visitors place mementos on the "survivor tree"—a callery pear tree rescued from the site ten years ago and nursed back to health, then replanted on this ground.

A small tribute.

Reflections in the new museum pavilion.

Many visitors have placed flags by certain names.

A yellow rose.

The Winter Garden dome, doubled.

The water is soothing—not as thundering as I expected it to be.

Skyline of flowers.

A reflected flag.

Reflections in water and glass.

Uncountable drops.

One World Trade reflected in the museum pavilion.

Making a rubbing of the text.

Another rubbing.

Aloha means hello and goodbye.

Linda June Sheehan lived on our floor. We didn't know her, but we helped rescue her cat from the deserted apartment.

The memorial park as seen from my living room window.