If I had known, would I have gone down the
Boulevard des Capucines to my meeting in Paris? Possibly not. Does it feel like
a manifestation of freedom when a concert has to take place in a military lock
down zone? Does anyone really feel this will heal the wound?
I couldn't be gladder to leave the city
tonight. My train arrives home at 10pm, and I am weary from travel. A story
from the desert comes to mind : an ancient tribe of travellers on their camels
on a long journey make a stop in the desert – they are neither hungry nor
thirsty. Their camels are not tired. An outsider asks them why they are waiting
– for our souls to catch up with us, they say.
I must have left my soul behind on many
continents, it will never catch up with me. The modern world spins too fast, it
is forever outpacing us.
Which takes me to the testimony of a Belgian
friend and colleague from the November Paris attacks, from the rue de Charonne :
“I recognize the sound of fireworks, I try to analyze what is happening, thinking
it was kids joking around… Two meters away from me, I see a man, holding a huge
Kalashnikov gun… they are calm, incredibly calm, the gunman next to me is
almost smiling…. Now I really want to insist on this: the brain is way too slow
in this situation. I finally get that this is not a joke. Something in my head
screamed, run as fast as you can, every step you’re alive, you’re still alive.
As I ran on, they kept on shooting for way, way, way too long. I guess that
most of the people standing on the opposite sidewalk died. They were like mirrors
of my stupefaction, I saw them before their last breath”.
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