I wake to news of Notre-Dame de Paris burning. The feelings come in a blur, hard to tell apart. I withdraw and recognise shock, sadness, a sense of loss. Then confusion at the dimensions of this response, followed by resentment at the ways people are quick to minimise it.

It is a building. No one has died. It is not the sum of culture. It might yet be restored. Perhaps it is a feature of our time to be so stoic. It is not long ago that the Bamiyan statues of Buddha were destroyed, and the ancient Semitic city of Palmyra was damaged. But I was gutted then, too.