Hugo Harvey as a teenager in Paris: The night of the Bataclan was hard to grasp
As a teenager in Paris, the night of the Bataclan was hard to grasp. I struggled to process what was unfolding around me, and how quickly the city turned threatening.
Even now, 10 years later, the experience is still hard to communicate.
In 2015, I was 13 years old, attending an international school in Paris where my mother taught, while my father was abroad on missions with the Irish Defence Forces.
On November 13th, I misled my mother by claiming I was just going to sleep over at a Colombian friend’s house. Instead I ended up at a party with him and a Russian friend. At this age we all wanted to be grown-ups, and covertly drinking alcohol while playing spin-the-bottle at a girl’s birthday party was our best attempt.
Our immersion in our imitation was, however, abruptly interrupted, as the disco ball switched off and the lights flicked
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