I went to Trafalgar Square to pay respect to the people that had been murdered in Paris last week. That was one reason, anyway. I was hoping there would be thousands and thousands of others, as busy as a football match, but there were, maybe, two thousand. I don’t know. It was still and quiet. Mostly all you could hear was the white noise of the fountains. At 2pm people stood in silence. At five past they sang the Marseillaise. I cried while they did. It must be the best national anthem in the world. People held Je Suis Charlie signs and Je Suis Juif. Much of the crowd was French.
Je suis Charlie. Je suis Juif. Je suis Paris. Je suis Flic. I am all of these things or I am nothing.
I went because I’m saddened by the events of last week. I went because I am not one of the murderers. I went because I don’t want their bloodthirsty hatred to carry more weight than it already does. And in Paris a million people went to Place de la Republique because they aren’t like the murderers, either. And that’s why I love people (sometimes).