Three people walk into a bar, a man, a woman an a boy. They are nervous and frightened. We are already inside. I’m nine and I’m with mom and dad an my brother drinking a coke. I’m not afraid. I’m curious. We are in Paris, France, near the Opera House, April 68.
Only a few minutes ago we were taking a walk through the streets of Paris, when suddenly my father pushed the bar’s door and tell us to go inside. I was bewildered because it was not usual to walk into a bar for us, kids, and we didn’t have much money to spend, so our outings were mostly walking and walking, and walking and seeing things but not seeing my father buying us sodas. But when I looked at the street one last time before entering the bar I saw police in horseback and young people running at the other side of the street. My Father was simply taking us away from trouble.
At the Opera House there is a very important show. Rich women and gentlemen are arriving in their best outfits with gowns and jewels and all that. The youngsters are protesting against this exhibition and are yelling at them, some want to throw things to them. The police was protecting the show goers and going after the protesters. It’s April 68 almost May 68.
I don’t know yet but we are at the door of a revolution in Paris. The movement is already on the streets. We are witnessing the beginning of a social explosion from the glass paneled door of a bar in Paris.