Hate me, Date me | NICE
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NICE

Nice I will never forget. But sadly this time, not for its beauty.

On 15th July 2016, we woke up in Rome to breaking news of a lorry driving through a crowd of people celebrating Bastille Day along Promenade des Anglais, the main strip of Nice. I remember feeling sick, and with details of the massacre still unclear, our arrival in two days time seemed unlikely.

Once tourists were given the all clear, we made our way seaside and the mood was instantly sombre, which it would remain for our time here. The city (and world) was in mourning and it felt odd to be there on holiday.

The memorial sites were quite spectacular and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Honestly, I hope I never do again. We went several times to pay our respects and I’ve still not been able to forget the posters with faces of the victims, many children, accompanied by hundreds of toys and bouquets of flowers.

No words can change the events of that day, but I hope that Nice has found peace two years on.

 

 

 

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