Thoughts on the Paris attacks from a friend of mine in France
Early this morning, I made my way down the stairs and looked out the back windows. I could see nothing beyond the terrace railings. Heavy fog blanketed the whole valley, reaching its fingers over the roof and around the stone walls of the cottage. The whiteness rested quietly and completely. I opened up the doors and stepped out. No sounds touched my ears and nothing moved. The branches were still. The birds were quiet. Even the leaves held on tightly to the almost bare apple trees. All was calm and peaceful.
But beyond the mist and the fog here in my safe little corner of France, it was not the same. Last night in Paris, all hell had broken loose. Less than 500 kilometers from where I am, terrorists struck with bombs and semi-automatic rifles, killing almost 130 people (at last count) and injuring almost 200 more. Just a few hours north of me, people were reeling from the shock, their worlds in chaos, their…
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