I’ve been awake for hours, early even for me except it’s not really my time I’m on but the time of the Parisians, many of whom will not be able to wake up from this nightmare for months to come. We longtime New Yorkers have a sense of how this feels. But each time the insouciance of daily life is replaced by an unanticipated human-made disaster of this scale, the nature of the living nightmare is horribly unique. Only one thing remains the same: that there is no true rest for a long, long time. I am sending love, so much love–the energetic equivalent of a cool hand upon the forehead. At this rawest of hours (at every hour, really) it is everything that we can give.