Alexander -Lygin-Obituary

Alexander Lygin

New York, New York


New York, New York


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His Love Was His Camera
Alexander Lygin's day job was computer programming at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 104th floor of 1 World Trade Center. But his passion was his 35-millimeter camera, and nature photography and portraits. He had a studio at home, and contributed photographs to Web sites. Mark Rogov, a close friend, said, "One of his long-term dreams was to get hired by a magazine to go to Africa for a couple of months to shoot pictures of animals."

Mr. Lygin, 28, became a citizen earlier this year. He came to the United States from Tbilisi, Georgia, in 1994 with many relatives. They included his parents, whom he supported. He lived with them in Brooklyn, and then moved just a few blocks away this year when his fiancèe, Anna Klekl, arrived from Moscow. Mr. Rogov said, "Among our little company of friends, Alex was probably the kindest and nicest person." Ms. Klekl called him "an incredibly kind person" and recalled joining him when he was out taking pictures, going to lots of movies together, and camping in a tent on the Delaware River on the weekends.

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In Memory
With Honor & Respect.

This morning I ran 9.11 kilometers in memory of Alexander Lygin. I am honored to have had the privilege of running in his name. I prayed for Alexander the entire race. Rest In Peace my friend. You deserve some rest after our awesome finish this morning.

Happy Birthday!!!

Happy Birthday!!!

In memory....

As I cross-stitched your name on the memorial that I am doing for all of the victims, I prayed for you and your family. Please know that your death was not in vain. We will always remember. God Bless.

We remember, we grieve

My contact with Alexander in this world was only for a moment, in a difficult circumstance - but one in which his character shone through. It was on Queens Boulevard, one night about six years ago, when Alexander came flying through a red light in his Honda and smashed into my car - a bad traffic accident. As I crawled from my shattered car, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Alexander, who had rushed to my car to see if I was alright. I looked up at him as if to say, "How could you do...

My dear friend... I miss you.