ADAM WAGNER
On 11th September 2001, I watched the Twin Towers fall while sitting on the deck of a beach house in Cuba. I was travelling with friends and we had just— as chance would have it—visited a little-known US military base called Guantánamo Bay. Watching the atrocity, I felt something unfamiliar surging through me—a kind of jingoism, mixed with anger and rage. This was amplified by the fact that one of the friends with me was desperately trying to find news of his cousin who worked in the World Trade Center. We soon found out that he had lost his life.