many most all of us are filled with emotions after the Paris terror attacks this weekend. Senseless murders occur everyday around the world. Innocent lives are lost. No life has more value than another when any of these type of heinous crimes happen.
But, there's something about Paris. It is one, if not the, most visited place in the world for tourists. And, if you haven't visited it, chances are it is on your wishlist. It is called "The City of Love" and "The City of Lights". People think of Paris, and they think of architecture, fashion, art, literature, movies, shopping, wine & food, lovers strolling hand in hand, iconic sites like the Eiffel Tour and Notre Dame. These thoughts and visions are romantic, not violent.
For me, I've been fortunate to visit Paris more than once. I've had close friends who lived in Paris. My cousin and I waded in waters of fountains near the Eiffel Tour. One of my very best friends was located there for work for six months; she lived on a street with a view of the Eiffel Tour and less than a five minute walk to Hotel Invalides. I stayed with her in this apartment, as did my cousins, aunt, uncle, and mother.
I've been to many, many rock concerts and seen Josh Homme (member of Eagles of Death Metal) live. I can relate to being one of those people going to a gig at the Bataclan. It feels more real and personal because of that relatability factor.
I've purchased many, many items at a rock show's merch stand. Maybe that's why this story of Nick Alexander and his girlfriend, Polina Buckley caused me to cry real tears.
I don't understand the violence and murder of average, innocent citizens who are going to work, eating out at a restaurant, or hearing a band in concert. The violence in Paris does not make me sympathize or empathize with the perpetrators. It doesn't make me say "hmm, maybe we should listen to their rhetoric." It doesn't make me want to know about their beliefs or fanaticism or religion (when they claim it is in the name of their religion). It doesn't make me open my eyes, see the light, and decide I want to start living my life according to the way the perpetrators think we should be living. You can tell me the murderers don't care about me either. They want me and the likes of me dead. I don't understand that either. It makes me disgusted, angry, and beyond sad.
I know it sounds cliché, but I am praying for the victims, their families, the responders, the witnesses, the survivors, and all those impacted by the senseless violence...in Paris and other parts of the world.