Tonight I’ll take a velib and decide to visit a friend who lives in rue d’Alibert, the street near le petit Camboge and Le Carillon. We’ll go out for pizza at Marie Luise, the Italian pizzeria at the corner. Initially I didn’t want to go, but it has been one month since the attack and my friend lives there and just by chance he wasn’t at either of those bars. I’ve never been there so maybe I could help him create new positive memories linked to that place. Before meeting us we exchange a texto: #no fear. I pass through Bastille, then Rue Richard Lenoir up to Canal st Martin. I know I’m going to pass to Blvd Voltaire, but I won’t see the Bataclan, so I feel relieved. Anyway, close to the crossroad I suddenly notice a sea of flower and burning candles, the atmosphere is humid, a tear would’ve fallen down my face, but humidity keeps it inside. Paris by night is breathtaking: the canal, the lights from the apartments of the haussmannian buildings, where life still goes on…
The pizzeria is between the Petit Camboge and the Carillon, and only by chance wasn’t attacked by terrorists, whom must have had more devastating plans. Some people stop in respectful contemplation. After dinner my friend shows me the bullet holes which the police circled in white. He lives just upstairs, he didn’t go out that evening because he was too tired after work. Then he perfectly sang the noise the bullets made, as they were part of a dreadful melody. He didn’t understand what had happened at the moment, he thought they were fireworks because he had never heard gunshots before. We walk slowly. At the entrance of the Carillon, among flowers, there’s a little cat, he’s cute, so we film him. I go back home and pass the canal again. On the opposite side, near the Bataclan, there are many more flowers. This time an avalanche of them. It’s late but there still are people beside the candles; a picture of Jim Morrison shines under the street lights. Pere Lachaise is not far.
Strangely, in the sadness of that gloomy night, I also felt a strong and sacred sense of comfort and humanity emanating from these places where people have left a flower, a poem, a burning candle…
A bike’s ride
