I lived as if Georges had gone off on a trip. I didnt touch anything. Picture: Ed Alcock for the Guardian
When police payed her Georgess possessions his luggage, uniting ring and diary a pen was missing. She thinks he possibly croaked with that write in his hand.
Ten months later, on the night of 13 November, when gunmen killed 130 beings across Paris in three hours, spraying cafe terraces with bullets and firing into the crowd at a concert, Wolinski was in bed listening to the radio. My daughter called and replied, Mum, turn out the radio. I didnt, I impeded listening and my indignation intensified, she articulates. I said to myself, they havent learned the lessons of January its terrifying. Theyre obliging the same mistakes with the families, the partners, the children. It emerged that in the summer, a jihadi returning to France from Syria had told police about gossips between jihadis about attacking a rock-and-roll concert in Europe. She am of the opinion that, like Charlie Hebdo, the Bataclan concert hall was a feelings locate that should have been protected by police. When I heard about all the relatives who had researched for hours for their loved ones before being told they were dead, that increased my craze, she says.
One family of a prey of the November onrushes afterward told how, provide guidance to officials, they had saved vigil for hours by a poorly maimed torso in infirmary, before subsequently discovering it was not their deceased sister but someone else. Pedigrees of the November preys recently leaved indicate to a parliamentary probe on what they deemed the states several lapses, poor help, unanswered disaster phone lines and scarcity of humanity towards them.
After the one-year ceremonies of the Charlie Hebdo murder Wolinski let on a bawl when she saw her husbands name had been misspelled on a plaque she mentions she will continue her own investigations into the attack. Like numerous in France, she assumes there are more terrorist attacks to start. Its not finished yet, she says.
In the first few months after the Charlie Hebdo attacks, she would imagine the filming each night before she went to sleep. But I lived as if Georges had gone off on a trip. I didnt touch anything , not even a jumper on the back of a chair. When she lately moved, she had the substance of his consider, terminated with his drawing board, moved to a museum in central France. But in my wardrobe Ive hung up one of his coats, his hat and a duet of shoes.
She misses the course he used to look at her. I dont know how Im going to live without his gape. Its not very feminist to say that, but thats just how it is. It was a gape that instilled confidence, a love for life. It was very important to me. For years, Georges Wolinski quipped that, when he died, his wife should have him cremated and throw his ashes down the lavatory, so I can see your arse every day. She causes an eyebrow. No, I didnt respect that at all.
Georges was cremated, but his urn was buried in Montparnasse cemetery in Paris, where people still leave pencils, pencils, reaps and heydays. She doesnt crave his tomb decorated in this way, but accepts that people want to remember him. When I go there, I clear it all away, Maryse responds. She favor his marble tomb left for the most area plateau, almost like a blank page. A final chapter, left empty.