I sit at the site of a recent terrorist attack, on the Promenade des Anglais, in Nice, France, drinking crisp rose to the sounds of the ocean rattling pebbles as it retreats.
Though a harsh contrast, the fact is, everyone here now is smiling and doing much the same. Nobody here chose to stay home and allow their lives to be compromised. We all remember, we all pray for the lives lost here, and the families struck by grief in an instant.
But we all continue.
Because terrorism doesn't work unless you let it. Terrorism is viral. A horrific initial act that is meant to set off a plague of fear among the collective consciousness to those of witness. In an age where we are all witnesses, the contagion of this fear virus is meant to be instant. Spreading through the cushy lymph system of our comfort zones, crippling us, paralyzing us.
However, here I sit, amongst a throng of tourists and locals alike, and together, in joy, we are fighting the war the right way. With our floating devices and our beach-side salad nicoise, we press forward in forceful rebellion, against any cause united in hate.
