Sunday night, Monday morning, the last metro, I traveled alone half the time. Nobody in my compartment. At Saint-Lazare, some travelers will join me. It separates at Concorde, the better to find a few meters away. These are not the same, but I do not know the difference. I had the opportunity to take the first train to La Defense, on the first RER more exactly, which is not the same thing. In the first subway, there is a bit of everything in the first RSP there is always the same, many women, black, they are in small groups, they make this long journey together, they talk about this and other in colloquial touch of French. The vernacular of RSP 5:25. They scatter always in groups all along the stops, but most lots in La Defense. They will clean the offices. I was often the only white in my compartment. Plump and bearded. I went to work then a handful of hours. I finished my contract. I did not have much to do. I made an appearance. I was pretty happy to go. I was already elsewhere.
yesterday so this morning I went out alone to the station of La Defense, I only crossed the small piece of esplanade that leads me to my office. I threw a glance from the escalator on its north face. It was cold. Since my height, I thought the desert of the Tartars, the battlements beneath my feet, imagine the life for which all this was designed, the crowd going, the crowd always has the crowd intrinsically linked to this panel, drawn and spat out by the towers. I imagined the thousands of small paths made by all those people who behaved like wt cells, carrying oxygen to the arrival and leaving heavy noxious gases, they purify air that is not even for them. It is through them that saw this Leviathan of concrete, but they forgotten. The defense turns, crushes and retirement each. Each of us. Defense is a place that pretends to live.
La Defense is a desert, surrounded in life.
0 comments:
Post a Comment