The same wry, bitter joke about United 93 keeps cropping up: we don’t need to see it, we know how it ends. But that’s why I watched United 93 in a near-constant state of tension: stomach clenched, fists balled, arms wrapped around myself protectively. Knowing how it ended made every moment leading to that point almost unbearable to watch. Airport lines, baggage screening, the bustle of
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