This happened to me.
In January 2015, I lived a kilometer from the offices of Charlie Hebdo when the terrorist attack took place. I decided to stay in Paris.
One evening in March the same year, I was walking along Rue Bonaparte when the army came to the streets of Paris.
Since then, the soldiers carrying machine guns guarded our home street day and night. In August, I decided to move out.
In November 2015, I lived twenty meters from the Bataclan Theater when Isis terrorists killed 90 people in the theater and on our street.
I became ill after the attack. I was operated five times. After five years, my body was almost the same as at the beginning of 2015 in Paris.
In December 2018, I ran away from the bullets of the Isis terrorist attack in Strasbourg.
I ended up in a labyrinth of a concrete parking garage. In its dark silence, I tried to hear approaching footsteps.
I exited, escaped, and decided to exist.