Free To Reach the Clouds by Philippe Petit

laughter.
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    Back on the ground, Jim rushes his film to the lab, Mark busies himself transcribing his tapes, and I, all smiles, put my notes and sketches in order.
    The success of this first “official” intrusion seems to bring the coup closer to …
    To reality?

INSIDE MY VEINS
    I am encouraged.
    Encouraged enough to resume looking for the equipment still lacking.
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    Not far from the island of Manhattan, I discover a cable factory, or rather a cable factory’s warehouse and workshop.

    Finding myself surrounded by hundreds of coils of steel wire-rope of different constructions and diameters; lifting enormous U- or Lyra-shackles one after another off the greasy concrete floor; caressing the grain left by the foundry on heavy-duty thimbles; comparing the design of cable clamps that jingle when I pick them up and put them back; and chatting under dim lights with men who have dedicated their lives to handling the unforgiving steel, who have black grease forever imprinted on their skin—and who love it—all this rekindles from embers to living flames my determination to fight for my mad project.
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    Thus, like the pair of impassable towering shadows that peacefully stretch every evening above the rooftops of the voracious metropolis as if to invade it, as if to force it to surrender, as if to suffocate it; like these two silvery pylons whose summits deface the clouds, and between which the sun must sneak in order to chase out the last of the night; similarly, inexorably, my insane
dream of the twin towers has once again infiltrated my veins, has once again become essential to my existence.
    Silent emptiness prolongs this thought.

DEAR JEAN-LOUIS …

    Dear Jean-Louis:
    The coup is back on!
    We have a new home. The interview was a success. I got all the information and all the photographs I was missing. I found out why we were arrested—we weren’t wearing helmets. I found all the equipment (except the Tirfor). Paul the Australian is arriving tomorrow, Annie is joining me soon …
    Now you can come to New York.
    Let’s do it!
    Philippe

    Jean-Louis receives the letter exactly ten days after the arrest. He reads between the lines that I could not have reorganized anything so quickly, especially considering that I spent most of that time regaining my lost enthusiasm. But he thinks if he comes he’ll be able to impose a serious plan and push the coup to victory. If he waits for impeccable organization, he’ll never see New York!
    He asks for two weeks’ leave and his boss replies, “No way! One week, and not an hour more!”

ULTIMATUM
    When Jean-Louis lands, I’m at JFK to greet him.
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    It’s May 25; the coup is set for the twenty-seventh.
    No. Having barely said hello to Mark and Paul, we argue all afternoon, then change it to the thirtieth.

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    My friend accuses me. He says my “colossal preparations” are impractical and unintelligent.
    I’m discouraged and furious.
    He’s furious and discouraged, to see the coup so close to success and yet so sure to fail. He can tell I haven’t figured out how to enter the towers and get to a hiding place, that I don’t have all the equipment. He’s convinced there’s not enough time.
    â€œWhy can’t you stop kidding yourself and face reality!” he reproaches.
    I spend the evening defending myself from his accusations.
    We fall asleep arguing.
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    In the morning, we pretend to forget our differences.
    I pull out the yellow pages and ask Mark and Paul to round up a Tirfor, the crucial cable-tensioning device, also known as a T-35 or a come-along, which does not wrap the cable onto a winch but passes it through the machine, as if inside two giant hands were pulling. Paul remembers that we used one for the illegal walk in Sydney, but here no one seems to know what we’re talking about.
    Meanwhile, Jean-Louis and I, smelling equipment in the air, argue over