Before I knew the city, I knew its promise. A distance, made of longing, romance, and the quiet geometry of chance. In the summer of 2001, I stood above it, looking out across Manhattan. Months later, everything changed. A pause in a classroom. A voice, slightly trembling. The towers had fallen. In that instant, something in me fell with them. Twenty years later, I returned. With a camera. The skyline had changed. But something remained.