But I was not.
It’s shocking to see a place where you have a lot of happy memories – on skates with my parents as a child, on romantic and chilly Sunday promenades etc. – shaken by a horror like this. It’s shocking to know that I could easily have been there with a group of friend, and for sure faces I crossed on the streets are not on this Earth anymore. That even if all of my friends are safe, some of them lived the attack, another one jumped on the beach with dead kids behind and some other lost their friends. I’m tired to write posts on terrorism and on the beauty and bliss of feeling safe in Israel. But I can’t retain myself.
I’m angry. Angry of Europeans not understanding and talking of tolerance, of France with its miserable controls. I’m sorry to say I was right fearing Nice (yes, I wouldn’t have been there as yesterday I had a feeling something would happen in France on July 14th), right of being always so paranoid to almost never get out of Monaco area (with this I mean Rocquebrune to Villefranche, 2km2 are an exaggerately small golden cage).
How couldn’t the police think that something would have happened on their national day? How that truck driven by a French Tunisian could enter the Promenade des Anglais? How long are we waiting to enter the Israeli method? There’s no space for tolerance, there’s no space for stupid flags on Facebook’s profile picture.
France is not my dreamy romantic land anymore, some bastard who shouldn’t be permitted to be called French destroyed it… Even if the French sky is red of innocent blood, I must keep away with this souvenir: