Bikeman: #3

The story continues, as the first tower collapses. Tom Flynn explains, “I am momentarily struck deaf. I do not hear the awful final roar of the tower in death. My mind blocks out the last sounds of the powerful collapse, the ripping, renting, relentless break up raining down. But with all the growling and gnashing of its dentilations, I do not recall the cruel noise. I am deaf, as deaf as I was, to those voices crying vainly for help” (38). The author uses the literary device, imagery, as a tool to create a scene for the reader and as a method to portray the images of the attacks through words. Not only does this story create an image or picture for the reader, but also creates a feeling in the minds of the reader.  This book has impacted my understanding of the attacks much more than actual pictures or videos. This form of journalism provides a picture for the reader along with words that explain the feelings that surrounded people in New York City. I found it to be very interesting how he compared the sound of the tower crashing to the screams and cries for help. As deaf as he was to the towers crashing, he was just as deaf to the pleas for help. He could hear the cries for help but he could not do anything about it. That feeling alone is something that an outside viewer cannot understand but can only be told. He watched the lives of so many vanish within moments and as a witness could not do anything about it. As he was running from the dark cloud of debris that was coming his way he explains, “an ambulance man runs with me. He is there to assist the hurt, the wounded, but finds none. They are not hurt this September morning. They die or they live. The ambulance man has no job to do” (40). Even people, whose job it was to help, could not do anything about it because there was nothing that anyone could do to help these people. The mere fact that these people were helpless affected Tom Flynn and others very strongly. The idea of help for others was no longer an idea because people were forced to be focused on helping themselves and protecting their own lives. He describes the black cloud approaching him as “thousands of horses and millions of soldiers are stampeding across a desert, threatening clouds rise at their hooves and heels, pushing the frightened air ahead” (42). This image is stuck in my head as I continue to read the story.