But the shock of it is that it is as ordinary as life. Everyone, every minute...
When the plane fell and the ground was getting clearer and clearer from the porthole, it seemed like a green patch, but it didn't represent the hope of life. Heart tightened.
I don't know why I feel so sad when the subtitle says "It was the only flight that didn't go back that day".
For a moment I would even rather wonder if it would have ended differently if they hadn't resisted. Could it be just a group of frightened passengers finally returning to the arms of their families.
However, will the day of 9/11 really have a different ending?
If we encounter such a scene, we do not know how to face it.
Life, because of the desperate struggle for freedom of the passengers on the plane, is more radiant.
It is the meaning of freedom to life, or the value of life to freedom.
It turned out that the two were so separate, yet so inseparable.
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