Friday was a mad day.
A day of looking forward, with Christmas preparations, followed by an impulsive trip across two counties to see beech trees that had shed their leaves, rusty dried tears of a season past.
Later that evening, Paris was wounded by cruel assassins, in the name of ideology. Beautiful lives brutally ended, by a callous cascade of life destroying bullets.
The weekend limped on, but the shocking events from Friday night were never far from our thoughts or lips.
Now the weekend is slipping away, and soon the new week will begin. We will think of the ones who will not be returning to work or study, to friends and family - whose names we will soon forget, but whose loss leaves a jagged bloody wound in the lives of those who mourn.
There have been, and will be, other atrocities. That does not diminish the pain of those who grieve. Instead we despairingly reflect, the pointlessness of acts of terrorism. We have no answers, just prayers for a change of heart, by those who seek to further their own agenda through acts of such wanton destruction.
Tomorrow we will see the sun rise once more. We will give thanks for the day, and vow to use it to make the world a better place. A responsibility passed on by the strangers whose lives were stolen on Friday 13th.