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Journeys of the Questress - WTC
Sept 27 - Oral Interpretation
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The Way it Was - 1
The Way it Was - 2
Sept 19 - When Tomorrow Never Comes
Sept 27 - Oral Interpretation
Oct 5 - A Mile of Tears - Part 1
Oct 5 - A Mile of Tears - Part 2
Oct 5 - A Mile of Tears - Part 3
Oct 11 - Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow
Oct 28 - Each Day I Search the Rubble
Nov 12 - When Spires Fall
Nov 19 - 911 The Rape of America
Dec 14 - Just A Thought
Dec 18 - A Sense of Place
Feb 2 - Final Pass to the End Zone
March 3 - Sitting on the Edge
March 14- Do You Still Remember
March 20 - Virtual Walk-Through
March 25 - When Will It End - Part 1
March 25 - When Will It End - Part 2
April 1 - Towers of Light
May 14 - View From Above
May 30 - Tunnel At the End of the Light
May 31 - Seventeen Hundred
Aug 9 - From the Margins Erased
Aug 30 - The Train Doesn't Stop There Anymore
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Sept 10 - Just An Anniversary
Sept 12 - September Holds Great Promise
Literary Reflections
Rebirth and Resurrection
The Winter Garden Springs To Life
The Winter Garden Springs To Life - con't
Underpass to the Past
Rebuilding Ground Zero
Under Hallowed Ground
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Yahrzeit
What Will Fill the Void?
I Submit a Design
Footprints in the Dust
My Memorial Design Submission
My Memorial Design - Drawings
New Path Train Station
Path Station Tour
May We Never Forget
That Which Surives
War Without End
4th Anniversary
Footprints in the Dust
Void
I Miss 9/11
Time Comes Between Us
A Thousand Cranes
Fear Factor
Love Letters On The Wall
Empty Chairs
Sitting on the Edge of Forever
Walking the Perimeter of Emptiness
A Counting of Days
For Friends Absent But Not Forgotten
Stigmata
The Memory Keeper's Promise
Unbreak My Heart
Standing On The Edge Of Forever
Both Sides Now
A Memory In Time
The Gravity of Loss
The Survivors Rise Up
Flowers Will Bloom
The Fire Within Us
The Sentinel
Stronger Than The Storm
Between the Candle and the Stars
Ghosts
A Journey Through Remembrance
Canticle of Remembrance
Beyond the Crucible of Chaos
Journey Through Remembrance project
What See We Now
Forever In Our Hearts
Keeping the Flame Alive
The Rebuilding of Ground Zero continues
Does Anyone Care Anymore?
Where Is Our Story Teller of Pain
At Memory's Edge
Dust Thou Art and to Dust Thou Shalt Return
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Oral Interpretation
A long time ago, in another time, another place, you taught me the meaning of words. You unlocked for me the hidden essence held within a sentence, a paragraph. Through your tutelage, I learned how to take literature, mine and others, and turn it into spoken magic.
 
I have not forgotten how to interpret a page. To take the sentences and parse them with pauses. Where to bold the words that express the heart of meaning. To reach out to my audience, transmitting the soul of the piece. To inject voice and emotion, to guide my listeners on the journey of the spoken word.

You are not here today as I analyze and mark my script. You will not be here tomorrow when I stand before the darkened audience and interpret my works. You will not be there, at the end of the performance, when I take my bow. For you have been gone for many years, missing from all the readings that had passed through my life. Only the memory of your teachings remains.

It's not about oral interpretation. It's not about words upon a page. It's about remembering. About carrying that memory forward. I went into NYC yesterday to attend a rehearsal. I saw the altered skyline, the hole where the Towers stood. I had lost no one in that tragedy and can't comprehend the immenseness of the loss. A vortex has opened, and the dead are crying words that none can hear.

A thousand words will be written about Sept 11, 2001. Stories will be told and retold. And the missing will never be found. We will dedicate our performance to those lost souls. We will read our works knowing that words pale in the shadow of the sorrow of those that lost  loved ones. And I will remember you. And I will hope that my interpretation will inspire and uplift. For it is in the reading and re reading of a writing that the deeper meanings slowly bubble to the surface. And I will hope that all the grieving will read and reread all the letters, and lists, and writings that their loved ones had left behind. For it is in the oral interpretation of literature, both banal and sublime, that the ultimate meaning becomes clear: I loved you enough to put words to paper. I left a little part of myself for you to hold in the dark of night. 

c 2001 Leona Seufert