...I'm Charlie Hebdo, out of the attack on the weekly. I confess that the drawings of Cabu or Wolinski shaped my tendency to irony over time. Many of us owe the audacity or unconsciousness to insist on that blind intent to write and to think, without worrying about the consequences. What happened on 7 January shook us and pushed us to meet on the hillside of the Baiona Public House.

In line with the massacre, amalgams and the desire for revenge are inevitable. The repetitive images of TV make the brain grow and perhaps in some of them the ambition to mimic the murderers' morbid deeds. The Basques know how and from where terrorism is fed and in the biggest loom that everything is the society that originates from entrepreneurs, shrunk, shrunk, denounding, lamenting, questioning (self-)what has happened, of the Arab children, whether or not they are Muslims.

In the name of sacred unity, such as infamous water, panic has flowed through the pores of the skin of the population, elevating the cantices of the war of the Republic until we become ourselves once and for all. The future is in question.

Houellebecq is not the only one under threat.