On September 11, 2001, as the World Trade Center towers burned following the attacks, David Rohde, then a reporter, joined scores of others converging on the site. After escaping the collapsing towers, Rohde went to an apartment at 125 Cedar Street, the home of a college friend’s mother, Elaine Williamson, concerned she might be inside. The apartment faced the south tower, though Rohde later found remnants from the north tower, including a paper from Cantor Fitzgerald, a firm that suffered enormous losses that day.

Accompanied by photographer Eddie Keating, Rohde revisited the apartment days after the attacks. While Rohde expected the wreckage or scattered papers to draw Keating’s attention, the photographer instead focused on an ordinary pewter tea set, worn by dust and debris. The tea set, a 30-year-old wedding gift, became the subject of a haunting close-up photograph that appeared prominently in the New York Times’ “A Nation Challenged” section. Keating described choosing to photograph the tea set just before leaving the apartment as a moment when the object “screamed out to be photographed.”

Keating spent months documenting the search for survivors and the cleanup efforts at ground zero, often working in difficult and dangerous conditions. He sometimes evaded police and disguised himself as a worker to continue capturing images from the site. His photography contributed to the New York Times winning the 2002 Pulitzer Prize for breaking news photography, highlighting both the destruction and the resilience of those involved in the response.

The tea set, later cleaned, was donated to the 9/11 Memorial Museum by Williamson’s family after her death in 2013. Keating, who passed away from cancer in 2021 at the age of 65, believed his illness was linked to the hazardous environment at ground zero. Before his death, he requested Rohde to sign an affidavit confirming his time working at the site.

Rohde, who reported for the New York Times until 2011 and now serves as a senior national security reporter, reflected on the profound shift the attacks marked—“the line between before and after”—captured through both words and images left behind from that tragic day.