The Paris end of Paradise

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Driving along the streets here on a sunny autumn afternoon, I am often reminded of the romance and beauty of Paris, with its tree-lined boulevards. This is especially so when the rays of the afternoon sun glisten on the razor wire and spread across the grime covered armoured window of the vehicle I’m in.

The roads themselves are tastefully lined with concrete partitions placed side-by-side like an endless number of friends. The crowning razor wire is held in place at regular intervals by rusted tridents, providing an artistic contrast of colour and texture. The world beyond the anonymous concrete is largely obscured, but occasionally it reminds us of its presence in the form of a black plume of smoke reaching effortlessly into the sky, announcing fireworks of murderous proportions.

And finally, the setting sun and call to prayer presage night’s arrival and the reluctant end of another day in paradise.

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