Suppose you had been brutally raped back in 2002. Suppose you had battled back and had confidently faced your attacker in court, had testified and sent him to jail.
Suppose you had written an article about your experience and now, finally, here it was, published in Marie Claire on July 7, 2005.
So here you are, riding in the London Tube on the way to work, reading your story in a women’s magazine at about 9:00 am, heading out of Kings Cross station when all of a sudden:
I felt rather than heard an explosion; it was as if I had been punched violently in both ears. The world went as black as if I had been plunged deep underwater.
Well, it’s a survival story, the story of Rachel North, rape victim and terror victim, but none the less compelling for that.
And it is a reminder that we are heading out of a curiously tranquil era in western history when nothing really happened.
But now we are going back into the real world, the world no longer of equable reason, of kindliness and due process and people dying peacefully in their beds. We are returning to the real world of life and death, of the dark chthonic forces that dwell in the ravines between the ethereal peaks of sublime exaltation, of populations on the move, of the clash of civilizations, of religious wars, of heroism and victory, of shame and defeat.
It is a world that has been there all along. Only we chose not to see it.