In memory of

A song by Jacque Brel, sung in a beautiful, haunting, understated way by a slender young female singer at the memorial service in Paris today was impressive. 
The French language has always seemed to me more evocative, more emotional than when songs are sung in English. Edith Piaf, Charles Aznavour, Francoise Hardy come to my mind.
Perhaps it's the breathing and intonation that accompanies the language. Perhaps it's the image of the beautiful, chic, Parisian women with their immaculate dress sense. Their poise and confidence, the husky, breathy delivery, so much more sexy, so much more alluring, full of innuendo and so suggestive. 
On this day the tempo of the song matched the solemnity of the occasion. Even the reading of the names of those who had died sounded special in French. 
And finally, the haunting, mournful sound of a cellist playing that most sombre of instruments a the last epitaph to this moving ceremony of remembrance. 
There were many people, famous and ordinary,

close to tears.