This isn’t a story.

I’m not usually one to make statements about events. I never really quite understood what catharsis could be achieved by posting a message to facebook or twitter or your social medium of choice. But today I learned that one of our colleagues was killed in the attack on the Christmas Market on Monday, and I’m really fucking angry and now I feel like saying something, even if no one reads this or no one cares. So I guess I understand why people write these things. I’m not looking for likes and validation. I’m just upset and I don’t know what to do with myself and I suppose I want the world to know, somehow.

I don’t know who the colleague is because privacy laws in Germany means they won’t release her name, and I obviously did not work with her. But maybe I passed her in the halls? Maybe she opened a door for me as we were passing through, or maybe I for her? The doors in our new building (our old building is a stone’s throw away from the attack site) are heavy AF; sometimes it takes such an effort to open them that strangers who don’t know each other laugh together about it. “These doors are so damn heavy!” we say. Maybe we laughed about it together and then went on our way? Or she could have been one of those miserable people who never smiles back in the halls, there are a few of those. Very few. Or maybe we never crossed paths at all.

I have no idea who she is but we worked together for the same company, came every day to the same place, maybe shared the same frustrations or celebrated the same things. She went to the Christmas Market closest to work maybe for some mulled wine or to buy gifts for her son and daughter, and some asshole drove a truck over her and other people just out to enjoy some holiday vibes, people who have nothing at all to do with whatever agenda is being played out by whoever does these things. And yes this happens everywhere and everywhere there are people dying senselessly. And I get upset about those too. But this was very close to home.

I am frustrated by my inability to do anything about this. I have a string of messages between my friend in Paris and me just asking each other over the past year or so, are you’re okay, were you there, are your friends alright, did you survive it?

What is the point of all of this? What are we supposed to do?

 

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