There was a bomb.

Or a firecracker.

Then another bomb.

The numbers started then. 10. 20. 60. 80. It was late at night at the end of a long week. These numbers were as foggy as the match I had watched. Could it be real?

I drifted off to sleep knowing something dark had happened in the City of Light.

The numbers were still there when I awoke. This time it was 128. Could this actually happen? That number was made of rockers, coffee drinkers, lovers of fine food. Lovers. Humans. Reduced to numbers.

How was I to make sense of this? Of these cold numbers?

Numbers. I got hope in numbers. Not just the numbers of Facebook profiles switching to tricolour. Not just the thousands of messages of fraternité. I found hope in numbers in their own right and from the great science of maths.

These are part of the rich cultural heritage we have been given by the Arab world. Even one of our favourite words –Alcohol – can also be traced back to Arabic.

Our thrill of discovering the Pyramids or any of the seven great Ancient Wonders of the World is as joyous as our first trip to Paris or any other great modern city. Please never forget those thrills. They link our common humanity.

The great edifices of the ancient and modern worlds are beacons of our common humanity.

Let us not forget that those who attacked Paris are also rampaging through those ancient sites too. For some reason, they are just as impure as a Parisian Café or a Death Metal track. We must resist this thinking.

Darkness must never fall.

We have the numbers to be victorious.

We have the numbers to be Human.