“The sun rose as I drove, brightening rooftops but turning streets into dark canyons where long shadows played over the sidewalks, sliding across streets and up storefronts. I fell in line with early commuters rolling down Montmartre’s hills. Paris unfolded below me in a carpet of twinkling buildings and streaking headlights. I took a moment to fall in love with the city all over again.

“Paris is a mood that touches everyone who stops at a sidewalk cafe and experiences how intimate each little nook of a huge, anonymous city can feel. Every block is its own world, with shops and restaurants that are tiny by American standards, barely larger than a bedroom. There’s always a bistro anchoring the end of the block. Seven generations bought their tobacco here because their parents did. They lean their elbows on the same zinc bar to drink a beer at day’s end, before climbing flights of stairs to a small flat they call home.

“The city is a paradox of tradition and energy where you always feel something unexpected is going to happen. For me, the unexpected was about to happen, and I wouldn’t like it. What came next wasn’t a dream but a nightmare. A slide into hell was starting and soon I’d be scrambling for a way out, fighting for my life.”