Walking Manhattan - E Line, WTC station

I begin in lower Manhattan, the construction site of the World Trade Center off to my right and a handful of grubby looking men hawking their 9/11 souvenir booklets at the smatterings of people just hoping for a glimpse at the two block scar that's been healing for the past ten years. I turn around and walk the other way. Something about this place, this preview shop, the push for donations to build the memorial - an unliving thing erected to immortalize the names of the dead - sits unwell within me. We're fascinated with scratching at the wound, looking continuously at images of the tragedy, picking at the scab until we're disquieted and bleeding within again instead of leaving it be and truly letting it heal. The scar will be there forever, a constant reminder in and of itself, so I fail to comprehend why we're selling souvenirs to a train wreck. This place makes me angry and the oppressive air of misguided good intentions is suffocating within these glass walls. I need sunshine and crisp air and the life that's still going on outside in the streets. Why are we not remembering by channeling human feeling and resources into the ones in desperate need of connection instead of funding cold stone that isn't breathing?