I didn't feel that I was in any danger; I felt like an extra in a movie, waiting for Bruce Willis to come and save the day. But as I stood there, staring at the twisted sky, I began to realize what was happening. People were jumping or diving from the highest floors of the North Tower. Others were clinging to beams and ledges that had buckled when the plane plowed into the building. But, one by one, every few minutes, another person lost his grip or just let go. From down on the street it looked almost like a desperate ballet: some seemed to be flying, their arms sweeping gracefully as they picked up speed. Others tumbled and some just dropped, rigid, all the way down. I was standing next to a woman in a blue blazer that said F.B.I. on it. She was crying and I started to cry, too."