Subway stations were closing one after the other as the night advanced. First, a few stations around Oberkampf — the one you get off when you go to a Bataclan concert. Then number 3 and the whole number 5 line. Paris was never as deserted on a Friday night. Taxis seemed to have disappeared. People had to walk 1.5 kilometers to get the nearest station on place de la Bastille, where a middle-aged woman was looking lost, loaded with grocery bags, and looking to connect with her fellow passengers to try to understand what she should do tomorrow. “I’ve always said we’re in war,” she repeated, as if that explained everything.
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