A week after the Paris attacks I went out to see if anyone else was out. Along the Champs-Elysées the cars were moving along as usual, the Ferris wheel was turning. They switched on the lights along the avenue a day later than planned. Not many wandered the the Village de Noël Christmas market lanes and sidewalks. Walking toward the Seine, Dior along the Avenue Montaigne had the most spectacular decoration among illuminated trees.
Catching the bus from Alma-Marceau to Trocadéro, the Eiffel Tower appeared dark. The red, white and blue shone on the Trocadéro-facing side only. The crowd was thin, not elbow-to-elbow.
I walked across the Pont d’Iéna. Returning home on bus 63 along Boulevard Saint-Germain, passing the Assemblée Générale, the famous cafés were barely occupied. I could see straight through the windows to the back of the cafés. Once at Gare d’Austerlitz, I changed to my metro number 5. The night before the sidewalk cafés were filled in the 6th and the 11th, including music, laughter and lots of conversation. This night, in hommage perhaps, the café life was still.