I’m not in Paris but I am in France, and right now I’m so sad. As the day breaks on the morning following the horrors of the night, there is hope of a brighter day.
My blog is supposed to be about vintage toys. Yet like my post earlier in the year about the Charlie Hebdo massacre, I once again write with heavy heart at the brutal loss of life here in France. Last night, Friday 13th, on ‘International Kindness Day’, at least 120 citizens going about their weekend business of eating, drinking, attending a rock concert and a football match were massacred. As I write, more than two-hundred have been reported injured by bullets and explosives – some seriously.
My thoughts and love go out to the victims, their friends and families. The boyfriend of my wife’s friend was in the Bataclan venue last night watching the Eagles of Death Metal play. As the news broke of what was happening he remained un-contactable for almost an hour. Luckily he managed to escape and let his girlfriend know he was safe. We also have three young family members living and studying in central Paris. As news of their safety reached us we breathed a huge sigh of relief at these scraps of good news.
How pathetic that this post must directly follow the Shelley Lost Poem post I made lamenting the futility of war and the suffering of innocents. I don’t think I have words to describe how I feel about the gunmen and whatever their idealogical reasons are for what they did – other than they must be inhuman. To kill so many citizens simply out enjoying their Friday night is taking it to a whole new level. It’s as pointless as walking along a beach shooting sun-bathing tourists (Sousse, Tunisia 2015), or detonating yourself in the middle of a peace rally (Ankara, Turkey 2015).
Must we as citizens always look over our shoulders now at the billowing fury of religious fanatacism as we go simply about our business watching rock bands?