In Auguest of 2001, I flew from Amsterdam to New York to mend a client relationship gone bad. The client's offices were in the World Trade Center. After the meeting, we had lunch and then I flew back to Holland not in a million years imagining that those who wished me a safe flight would die horribly in a few weeks. Terror is the disease of our age. It tears apart the human spirit and the pain seems to drain all hope. For those who have then and today, for no fault of their own, been laid as a sacrifice in the altar of terror we build memorials. I hope there were neither victims nor executioners. Sometimes in the dark hours of memories only art gives a fleeting sense of solace.
