A French police officer checks the IDs of two men wanting to cross a police cordon on the morning after the attacks in Paris. Photo / AP
At first there were a few, then there were many. Now it is all the time. Messages on twitter, SMS pings...people searching for loved ones, friends, family members. Loved ones who'd been out enjoying the clear, crisp autumn evening.
The area of central Paris where the attacks took place is
renowned as a happy place. The bars open directly onto the cobble stone streets. First it was shock, now this morning it is fear.
Unlike in January's attack this was not an attack on a specific media or religious target. This was an attack on an area of France's capital where people of all faiths and none, locals and tourists, go to enjoy each other's company, to laugh, to listen to music.
This area of Paris was where the 'joie de vivre' was imprinted on every cobblestone, in every bar. It is an area which old and new, young and old mix. The buildings are the traditional low-rise, with shops on the ground floor. Upstairs you have elderly people who are living in rent-controlled apartments, young people who rent a 'chambre de bonne' (a small room with a water closet if lucky) or on-the-up yuppies who take an old apartment and renovate it into a luxury abode.
I was in the area around the attacks a few hours before gunmen, some with explosives strapped to their waits, arrived. I go there to buy basmati rice, of all things. There are so many Mom and Pop stores which stock that little item. There was the usual buzz there, comings and goings.
This morning, it is deserted. Fear is creeping along those pavements.
