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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Four Line 9 métro locations
A diagonal, one after another
Right where Armageddon struck
In the night of carnages
These stations were
For once
A safe heaven
And Line 9 trains
Brought survivors

Next day
The city under shock
Line 9 still runs
We’ll resist these assholes!

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