Paris, the day after, I don’t care for your prayers

This morning, there was a strange silence in my street, and it didn’t bode well. Indeed, I live in Paris’ near suburb and today should have been run here a semi-marathon. Every year, on this particular Sunday, I’m awaken early by a rock band playing loudly to encourage all participants. This morning, within this deafening silence, I could hear the chimes of St Cloud’s church, however far it is. What a symbol! What sadness!

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