Our Freedoms are Fragile
PARIS — It’s Saturday night in Paris. The city, as always, is elegant. But this weekend the mood is quiet and reflective. The streets are somber and glisten with headlights in the drizzle. For the first time in four days, no one has died in a terrorist attack. Is it really over?
I walk out of my hotel, just five-minutes from the magazine offices of Charlie Hebdo, which is now a cordoned-off crime scene. With work done, I can finally relax and look for a beer.
I hear laughter down the street and see a bulge of people. There is still some “joie de vivre” in this city. We investigate and enjoy a refreshment.
Leaving, we come across a memorial to police officer Ahmed Merabet. For me, the image of his murder was the most chilling moment of the attacks…
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