the young woman who keeps the striped pajama boutique across the street was reading her paul auster novel.(“you left new York for paris?”she demanded incredulously when I introduced myself not long ago.)only in the early afternoon, when le monde came out, did I realize that the Islamic terrorists who are now working in parishad left a bomb in the underground train and that, give or take a few hundred yards, it had gone off beneath the second-floor refuge on the bank that my wife and I had found this summer, after along search. The ambulances were heading for the gare d orsay,where the wounded were being taken.