I live in the UK. I was seven and homeschooled by my mum and dad. It was about two pm. I was studying History and Geography with my dad, when my mum, who’d been upstairs, came down to tell us that a plane had hit the world trade centre. She’d heard about it on the radio as we did’t have a TV. We all gathered round the radio to listen and then interviews turned to screams as the south tower was hit. Our grandparents lived nextdoor to us and as they had a TV we all raced round, to possibly the most sickening images I have ever seen. Two huge skyscrapers burning, and the replays of the second hit were shown again and again. They are still as clear in my mind as on the day. People were waving from the top floors and we all prayed and hoped they’d be alright. Then the towers fell. We all looked at each other in stunned disbelief, my mum was almost crying. After half an hour of watching the aftermath we returned nextdor, the sun even went in behind the clouds. I’ll never forget what my dad said to me. “Thats history, geography, and now.”