This past week, I visited the Flight 93 Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. It was an undeniably powerful experience, though I'm not altogether sure where and how the above-referenced "power" was generated.
Could it be that the psychic jolt I experienced at the site was conjured up by the bizarre, uncanny, yet also grotesquely compelling "Tower of Voices" that marks the first stop of the Shanksville pilgrim when he first enters the Memorial's grounds?
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For reasons enumerated elsewhere, I view the "official story" of 9/11 with extreme skepticism. The various plainly impossible details of Flight 93's alleged aerial trajectory, including the notion that this massive commercial passenger plane somehow, upon crashing, dissolved into the earth in the rustic remains of an abandoned coal mine, leaving behind no bodies, rubble, or recognizable plane parts, unlike every other plane crash that has ever been recorded… yet at the same time inexplicably yielding certain objects in near-pristine condition--like the alleged hijacker's passports and identification cards and one hijacker's bandana (!)-- objects which were allegedly unearthed among the dust of the otherwise totally vaporized wreck, beggars belief, to be sure.
That said, even an intractable, unreconstructed "truther" like me could not escape the sense that the "Tower of Voices" possesses some kind of haunted, haunting resonance.
The structure, officially completed on September 10, 2020, was ostensibly conceived as a means of honoring the 40 people allegedly on board of Flight 93 (passengers and crew, not including the alleged hijackers, of course) on September 11, 2001. It stands 93 feet tall, is 15 feet in width and houses 40 wind chimes, which on a windy day (such as the day I was there), make a relentless cacophony of ringing sounds.
On the Flight 93 Memorial site's official webpage, the claim is made that "The Tower of Voices provides a living memorial in sound to remember the forty (passengers and crew) through their ongoing voices." This sounds nice on a superficial level, but the actual effect is quite weird. An aesthetic conceptual framework in which the voices of deceased people are rendered as bells just "rings" hollow, or worse. It both seems glib and dehumanizing The dead, after all, are not windchimes, not even symbolically or metaphorically; the forty who lost their lives deserve to be depicted as something altogether more animate.
Still, the eerily-named, vaguely Lovecraftian-sounding "Tower of Voices" is irrefutably mesmerizing to behold. The structure points heavenward in a manner akin to a rocket ship, and when the wind whips around on the lovely Western Pennsylvania plains, the Tower's furious battery of chimes creates an atmosphere that puts the beholder under a kind of spell. (See my own response to the Tower here.)
There is clearly an esoteric calculation in effect with the construction of this monument; one suspects that those "in the know" are meant to derive layers of meaning from the placement of this confounding open-air sculpture in the vicinity of an almost surely fraudulent "crash site."
Perhaps those same "in the know" people-- which might or might not include those who actually conceived and constructed the "Tower of Voices" itself -- are aware of what truly happened to the forty lost souls whose ostensible "Let's Roll" heroism was cynically invoked by the globalist powers-that-be as a pretext to launch a bellicose, destructive, and murderous foreign policy, both in the Middle East and elsewhere.
Andy Nowicki is the author of several books, most recently The Insurrectionist and Muze. Visit his Youtube channel.