Terror is this silence in the middle of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, where normally the party is in full swing on a Friday night. Terror is the people who run to go home. No one walks. Everyone runs. I run, too, and I laugh at the same time because the situation is too absurd. I laugh, and tears run down my face, for I am afraid. I am afraid for my life. I am afraid for those who are dead. I am afraid for Paris.

"Not even scared" was the most popular slogan in the streets the day after the attacks. This is not true. After that night, with each blow of horn pressed a little too long, with each carelessly forgotten bag in the subway, we fear.

Right now, the terrorists have won.

They terrorized Paris. They shot her youth. People my age all know at least one person who lost a loved one in the attacks, if not more.

I have a recurring nightmare in which men with guns in their hands walk towards me. I know they're coming, but I'm glued to a chair, and I cannot move. They point their weapons at my face and I have time to be certain that I'm going to die before I wake up.

The country is rife with hostility now; the divisions are bitter. And on the eve of the presidential elections, political extremism has swept into breaches of hatred with record success.

Terrorists have won, but only for a time. Once we have healed, we will fight bigotry and hatred with unity and freedom.