I lived in Boston, where the planes originated, when the twin towers were hit on September 11, 2001.
I lived in London on July 7, 2005 when bombs went off in the tube and on buses. And where an innocent man was killed in a panicked effort to find justice.
And now I am in Paris.
The feelings are same each time: pain, grief, confusion, anger and loss. I pay attention to sirens that normally blend into the background.
But if I live in ten more cities on ten more days like today, I hope that those emotions will remain. They are what humans do in the face of inhuman acts. Losing them would mean I have become less human.