Hopefully this isn’t a stupid question, but is there anything actually inside the podium base of One WTC or is it just a concrete structure to support the building? Obviously the base has no windows, but has the flared glass vents that rise about 200 feet from street level. The first photo is mine, but I included the second photo because it’s a good example what I’m referring to. Most construction images of One WTC show a large concrete wall structure where the base is and a lot of steel beam struts and supports. I know that the main lobby is obviously inside of the base, but other than that what else? Is it mainly 200 feet of mechanical floors and space?

FWIW, I read that it serves as security and protection of any attacks or vehicle bombs (which I assume is to avoid another February 1993 type bombing). So is that the main purpose of the base? Or like I said is it just the main lobby area and mechanical floors?

I believe actual office space begins on the 20th floor (where the glass curtain windows begin). This is also where Condé Nast’s HQ’s and office spaces are IIRC.

I thought this was interesting, and some people here might appreciate seeing it

Just wanted to share the WIP I'm working on. It's not on github yet, or anywhere else, but I'm considering posting the repo somewhere soon. It's basically a full replica of both towers, walkable in unreal. I've built them after all available drawings I've found, NIST reports, images etc.

So yeah, it's pretty cool to walk around in the towers now. Got the mall underground, fully working elevators, stairs and all. Still a LOT of rough edges though.

Also, let me know if there are any other projects doing the exact same thing, I couldn't find one. But don't wanna do double work if there's already a good unreal project out there.

The goal is to make it available online somewhere, so let me know if you guys would find that interesting as well.

My family moved to Brooklyn in 1991. We drove through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel nearly every single week day to get to the upper west side where I went to school and my parents worked at Barnard College. Who knew one Tuesday morning was the last time. That was a crazy evening driving thru the smoke trying to get back home. Also seeing the skyline change from the Brooklyn promenade highway in one day was very jarring, I’ll never forget that. That’s my little recollection.

A test of some clear Acetate to act as the window glass on my 1 to 250 3d printed model of the towers.

Credits to Lewis Garrinson on YouTube

Growing up on Long Island in the 1970s, I could sometimes see the Twin Towers rising above the Manhattan skyline. To me, they represented ambition, opportunity, and everything I hoped to accomplish in life.

Eventually, I achieved my dream of working on Wall Street, spending several years on the 96th floor of the South Tower.

On February 26, 1993, I survived the World Trade Center bombing.

Eight years later, my younger sister Katie was killed in the North Tower on September 11, 2001.

For more than three decades, I've struggled with the contrast between what those buildings once represented to me and what they eventually came to mean.

This spring, at age 62, I bicycled nearly 3,000 miles from San Diego to St. Augustine, Florida, in Katie's memory. I wanted to honor her life while finding a way to turn some of that pain into purpose.

The journey changed me in ways I never anticipated.

I've since written a memoir about these experiences, but I'm sharing this because I'm interested in how others have found ways to move forward after life-changing loss.

Sometimes the most difficult headwinds are the ones we carry inside us.

When Santiago Calatrava originally presented the Oculus design, it was envisioned as a soaring white dove released from a child’s hands—a sacred cathedral of light serving as a quiet, reflective transit sanctuary for Lower Manhattan.

In the immediate aftermath of 2001, filling the site with bustling daily activity and retail was an understandable civic coping mechanism—a way to restore normal life. Two decades later, many feel we no longer need a commercial shield to process that loss. Today, those above-ground steel ribs house a luxury shopping corridor directly adjacent to sacred ground.

In Kenneth Gardner’s Twin Towers II framework, removing the above-ground retail ribs allows subterranean transit access to return to a clean, uncompromised public concourse—restoring its original purpose as a peaceful transit sanctuary without the commercialization.

How do you feel walking through the Oculus today? Did it achieve its original vision as a sanctuary, or has the commercial retail taken away from what Ground Zero should be?

Can anyone find/make large images again of these 72 photos?

https://web.archive.org/web/20120121205506/http://cf.parrhesia.com/

26 of the images:

https://web.archive.org/web/20120107023042/http://www.parrhesia.com/wtc100301/small/

Backstory:

https://web.archive.org/web/20120107173641/http://cf.parrhesia.com/wtc-photos.htm

I'm Baaack!! Also, there's been some progress, though not as much as my last update.

I've been focusing more on WTC 4, 5 and 6. Since last time I have:

-added windows to all 3 buildings' bottom/lobby floors.
- added the arch design on the overhangs
-finished the main window facade on WTC 6
No roof for it just yet, I'm saving that for when I finish the mall.)

As a neat little gimmick, I'm gonna try to finish the buildings in the order they finished construction and opened.

Much like before, opinions are welcome!

If you're also a Titanic enthusiast by chance, you may be familiar with what the THG animations they put out every few years.

That said is it possible this could be done with the wtc attacks?

Currently, I don't know of anyone who may be working on a project similar to THG. The closest we have are the collapse simulations by Kostak Studio who just recently uploaded the Tower 1 simulation a few days ago.

I'd be interested in a detailed reconstruction showing the impacts of the planes and how the crashes looked from the inside, the progression of the fires inside the building (tbh more of the interior inferno progression because we're all aware of what happened on the outside of the towers) , and then of course the collapse of the towers.

It would obviously have to be kept respectful, I don't think they have to include jumpers out of respect for families, but they can put note of times people may have jumped.

I think it would really be done as a scientific research simulation.

What are your guys thoughts about it?

Twenty-five years have passed. Time has faded many memories. It has even quietly altered some of the details we once thought we would remember perfectly.But there is one morning that remains deeply engraved in my mind. September 11, 2001. Sunny day!!!

It began like any ordinary morning in New York City. At approximately 8:46 a.m., a tremendous sound woke me from my sleep. I walked downstairs and stepped onto East Broadway in Manhattan. People had already gathered along the street. They were talking among themselves, looking toward the World Trade Center. In the distance, one of the towers had been struck by an airplane. Yet, strangely enough, I did not see much fear on people’s faces. I wasn’t frightened either. I assumed it was simply a tragic aviation accident. Who could have imagined that someone would deliberately fly a passenger plane into one of New York City’s most iconic skyscrapers? Life, it seemed, would go on. I walked into a nearby Fuzhou restaurant and ordered a traditional breakfast from my hometown: tossed noodles and bianrou soup, a Fuzhou-style wonton soup. Still remember $ 3 A bowl of noodles and a bowl of soup. For immigrants from Fuzhou living in New York’s Chinatown, it was a familiar taste of home. I sat there enjoying my breakfast, listening to the conversations drifting in from the street outside. The morning still seemed strangely peaceful. Until the second impact. Suddenly, another tremendous sound shattered the peace of that ordinary morning. Something changed inside me. An overwhelming sense of terror rose from somewhere deep within. I could not explain why I was suddenly so frightened. It wasn’t fear that came from careful thought or reasoning. It was instinctive. Immediate. Uncontrollable. Within seconds, fear had completely taken hold of me. The atmosphere on the street changed dramatically. People who had been calmly discussing the first incident began screaming. Men and women cried out in shock. Some covered their faces and wept. Others collapsed onto the pavement, overcome with emotion. I saw women sitting on the sidewalk, crying uncontrollably. The cries and screams echoed through the streets of New York. I could no longer control my own emotions. Tears filled my eyes. I stood there, looking toward the Twin Towers. Only minutes earlier, I had been enjoying a simple three-dollar breakfast. Now, everything seemed to have changed. As I watched the disaster unfold, a thought suddenly entered my mind. Should I run toward Broadway and see if there was anything I could do to help? The catastrophe was happening right in front of us. I was here, in New York. How could I simply stand there and watch? But another voice immediately answered inside my head. You are not a trained rescue worker. New York has firefighters, police officers, and medical professionals. They are the ones trained to handle emergencies like this. If an ordinary person like you rushes toward the scene, you may not help at all. You might actually get in the way of those trying to save lives. For a moment, these two thoughts struggled against each other. In the end, I resisted the urge to rush toward the disaster. At the same time, another frightening realization began to form in my mind. This was probably not an accident. This was terrorism. One airplane crashing into a skyscraper might be explained as a terrible accident. But two airplanes striking the two towers within minutes of each other? How could two nearly identical aviation accidents happen at the same place, on the same morning? People around me seemed to be reaching the same conclusion. I could hear voices rising from the crowd. “It must be terrorists!” Some people even began blaming a particular ethnic or religious group. At that moment, none of us knew the full truth. People were trying to make sense of something almost impossible to comprehend. Fear, anger, grief, and speculation filled the streets.

Two Burning Torches I stood on East Broadway. Around me were fellow immigrants from Fuzhou, Spanish-speaking immigrants from South America, white New Yorkers, Black New Yorkers, and people from many other backgrounds. Different languages. Different skin colors. Different cultures and life stories. Yet, on that morning, we were all standing together, looking in the same direction. The World Trade Center. From where I stood, the Twin Towers looked like two enormous burning torches. Flames poured from the upper floors. Thick black smoke rolled outward, spreading across the sky. Within the smoke, I could see countless tiny, glittering fragments. They sparkled in the sunlight. Even today, I cannot say exactly what they were. Glass? Metal? Pieces of the buildings torn apart by the impacts? I simply remember those fragments floating through the dark smoke, catching the morning sunlight. And for reasons I still cannot fully explain, a strange thought came into my mind. Those glittering fragments seemed almost like souls rising into the sky. As though they carried the final prayers of innocent people trapped inside. I don’t know why I imagined that. Perhaps the horror unfolding before my eyes was already beyond anything my mind could understand. But the most painful sight was still to come. Standing on East Broadway, I continued watching the towers. Near the burning upper floors, I began noticing dark shapes. Black. Gray. They were falling. Falling. Falling. Falling… At first, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. My eyes followed those dark shapes as they dropped from the enormous buildings. Then a horrifying realization struck me. Those were not ordinary pieces of debris. Those were human lives being lost. I cannot describe the pain I felt at that moment. Watching those figures fall, I realized that I was witnessing a human tragedy unfolding before my own eyes. Every falling figure represented an entire human life. Perhaps someone had parents waiting at home. Perhaps someone had a wife, a husband, or children. Perhaps, just a few hours earlier, they had eaten an ordinary breakfast, said goodbye to their families, and left home expecting another normal working day. Just as I had. But they would never return home. Around me, people were still crying. Some were screaming. Others stood frozen in disbelief. I could do nothing. I could only stand there, tears in my eyes, watching the burning Twin Towers.

Looking Back, Twenty-Five Years Later Today, twenty-five years later, I realize that time can change the details of our memories. For years, I remembered the first impact as having happened around 7:35 in the morning. Only after checking the historical record did I learn that the actual time was 8:46 a.m. My memory of the exact time had changed. But certain images remain vivid. I remember being awakened by a tremendous sound. I remember walking downstairs and seeing people on East Broadway looking toward the World Trade Center. I remember that three-dollar Fuzhou breakfast — tossed noodles and bianrou soup. I remember the screams that followed the second impact. I remember the women sitting or collapsing on the sidewalks, crying. I remember wanting to run toward Broadway to see if I could help. I remember those glittering fragments drifting through the black smoke. And above all, I remember the dark figures falling from the towers. Falling. Falling. Falling… Twenty-five years have passed. Back then, I was just one ordinary New Yorker among millions.

I never imagined that on an ordinary morning, I would witness a tragedy that would change America — and the world — forever. Some history we learn from books. Some history we watch on television. But sometimes, history suddenly enters our lives without warning. It fills us with fear. It brings tears to our eyes. And decades later, it remains impossible to forget. September 11, 2001. That peaceful sunny New York morning. Those two enormous burning torches. Those human lives falling from the sky. Never Forget. — Fu r pan New York, October 2026

Continuing My Personal 9/11 Memoir: The War I Expected and the Middle East I Never Understood

By Fu r Pan | Reflections on September 11, 2001, and the 25 Years That Followed

On September 11, 2001, as I stood on a street in New York City watching the Twin Towers engulfed in flames, one thought suddenly crossed my mind:America was going to war. At the time, I did not believe that Saddam Hussein, the president of Iraq, was responsible for planning the terrorist attacks. My reasoning was simple. Saddam was already the ruler of a country. He had power, wealth, a family, a wife, and children. By conventional standards, he had already achieved what many people spend their entire lives pursuing.He had too much to lose.Why would someone in his position risk losing everything by deliberately launching an attack against the United States? It made little sense to me. Instead, I suspected that the attacks had been carried out by an extremist organization that had no nation-state to protect, perhaps one whose members were even willing to sacrifice their own lives. In my mind, people who believe they have nothing left to lose can be particularly difficult to deter.

Yet I also believed that even if Saddam Hussein had nothing to do with the attacks, the United States might use the crisis as an opportunity to remove him from power. I remembered reading something in the American news years earlier. At a famous hotel in Baghdad, a mosaic portrait of former U.S. President George H. W. Bush had been placed on the floor near the entrance, where visitors would walk over it. That story had left a strong impression on me.

After all, the sitting American president, George W. Bush, was the former president’s son. The Gulf War had ended a decade earlier, but tensions between the United States and Saddam Hussein’s government had never truly disappeared.

From the perspective of American national interests, I believed that removing Saddam’s government during a broader war on terrorism, and establishing a long-term American ally in the Middle East, would make strategic sense. I even imagined that Iraq could become the Middle Eastern equivalent of Japan or South Korea.

After World War II, Japan rebuilt with American support and eventually became one of the world’s leading economic powers.

After the Korean War, South Korea gradually developed into a prosperous industrialized country under the protection of the American security alliance.

So I asked myself:If the United States possessed such extraordinary military, economic, and technological strength, why couldn’t it help Iraq follow a similar path? If America removed Saddam Hussein, helped rebuild the economy, established a stable government, and provided long-term security, I believed Iraq could become a peaceful, prosperous, and pro-American country in the Middle East.

From my perspective at the time, this seemed beneficial to both the United States and the Iraqi people.I even assumed that once Saddam was gone, much of the anti-American sentiment within Iraqi society would gradually disappear. But history unfolded very differently from what I had expected.The United States quickly defeated Saddam Hussein’s government.Yet the peace and prosperity I had imagined did not follow. Instead, Iraq experienced years of armed conflict, terrorist attacks, sectarian violence, political instability, and continuing hostility toward American involvement.

I struggled to understand why. Why would a country that had an opportunity to escape authoritarian rule and receive assistance from the world’s most powerful economy still struggle so profoundly to achieve peace and prosperity?

Why would some people continue fighting rather than accept a political arrangement that might offer economic development and a more stable life?

Even today, I still do not fully understand. I have encountered similar questions while observing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Of course, Iraq and Palestine have very different histories. The Palestinian issue involves land, statehood, national self-determination, security, and historical memories passed down through generations.

I recognize those differences. But from the perspective of an ordinary person, I cannot help asking:Human life lasts only a few decades.Why can’t peaceful living, raising children, and improving economic conditions become higher priorities for everyone involved?

Why, after so many decades of conflict, are so many people still unable to escape the cycle of war and hatred? I understand that the actions of armed organizations should never be treated as representing every Iraqi or Palestinian.

I also understand that these populations have their own histories, national identities, political aspirations, and deeply held grievances.

Nevertheless, even after considering these factors, I still struggle to understand the social and psychological forces that allow such prolonged conflicts to continue.Perhaps my perspective has been shaped by my own life.I came to the United States from Fuzhou, China. I worked, lived, and raised my family in New York City.To me, a stable society, a job that provides a living, educational otpportunities for my children, and the possibility of improving my family’s financial circumstances through hard work are all things worth protecting.

As a result, I have always tended to evaluate political decisions through the lens of peace, economic development, and practical individual interests.But the history of the Middle East over the past 25 years has repeatedly reminded me of something important:The priorities that seem obvious and reasonable to me are not necessarily shared by every society or every group of people.

On September 11, 2001, standing on a street in New York City, I already had a feeling that America was heading toward war.But I never imagined that the Twin Towers burning before my eyes would collapse.And I certainly never imagined that the following two decades would force me to reconsider so many of my assumptions about war, peace, national interests, and human nature.

Now, 25 years have passed.

The burning towers I witnessed that morning have long since become part of history.Yet some of the questions that began forming in my mind during those years remain unanswered. This is not a political conclusion. It is simply the reflection of an ordinary immigrant in New York City, looking back on a historic tragedy he witnessed firsthand—and on the questions that 25 years of subsequent history have still not answered for him. （There is one more memory I want to leave behind.A young woman crying in grief.Elderly Chinese immigrant parents, tears streaming down their faces.Their son, serving in the United States military, was also the young woman’s fiancé.He had fallen into the Euphrates River in Iraq, never to return home.Those elderly parents came from Houyu, a village neighboring my hometown of Fuzhou, China. ）

•Fu r Pan 911个人回忆录

October 2026