Jungle ordinary He runs, he slipped, he struggles. It looks like it is leaking, but perhaps he is struggling just to survive. Around him, the frantic and uncontrolled movements of wildlife fanatic not stop him stiffing bloods. He was attacked from all sides. The amplified sounds, distorted, grotesque, reverberate around him. The stinking rip him a few tears along the way. Ho, of course, some people have tried to prevent, deter, but it does reinforce the fact that his idea. He has always had contradictory and adventurous. Moreover, if it holds good, the game will be worth it.
After a few minutes he returns: he is lost. Has it ever been here? He does not remember. He should have taken something to locate, mark its path. This is not the first time he takes this path, but everything seems different. The last time was at night, but it is true that these places, the notion of temporality that has little more significance relative.
And then he sees: the light at the end of the tunnel. Simultaneously, he heard the noise and saving feature. It is gaining momentum and short. It has only a few seconds before the doors are closed, more than a few seconds before losing the right, and what little remained of his conscience and humanity. It MUST pass its doors!
He plays scramble to clear a passage. He dismisses the attacks of hand and was able to move without losing speed. His lungs burned, her heart drumming somewhere between his sternum and larynx bead on his forehead a few drops of sweat. Cold sweat ? If only ... But it's so hot here. Yet, somehow, it's fall.
In a final effort, he plunged.
Behind him the door closes in a mechanical clicking. He did it! He thought never get there, and yet here he is out of this ... "In this jungle," he thinks aloud.
He catches his breath, he gasped a little further. He takes on him to recover, while leaning against the door tightly closed at present.
He could not say exactly how much, but things always seem hostile to him. And if ... And if it was not yet out of the woods?!
The sense of unease growing within him, as he scans the area of his eyes. The room could be warm if there were not this pile of bodies piled up on each other, this entanglement and animal against nature. Suddenly, he remembers, he remembers the horror he remembers having already been had. He remembers his goal: get out of there as quickly as possible.
He watches the ceiling as if he expected it collapses. As a precaution, it sticks a little more against the door. He closes his eyes, gathers his courage, waiting for the right moment. He will have to play tight.
Suddenly the door opens again! He could take this opportunity to exit, if a continuous stream does not reject the other side of the room.
That ... Exactly what to avoid. Now it is completely glued to the outer wall of the room, unable to move. He did not stop his journey so quickly. He has no idea how to extricate themselves from this situation. He could be suspended in a vacuum by means of two ropes about to release him that the situation seems less intractable.
And then suddenly, hope. Yes, he also remembers it had happened exactly as last time. And then he heard these words resonate: "At this station, downhill left. Doors Open On The Left. Uscita a sinistra", the wall against which he leaned was opened, he was staying. Moments later he would emerge from the subway station, serene.
Like last time, he promises: the next time he takes the bus.
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I dedicate this text on the subway for young tourists to the new Paris ; The old fighters afflicted, still dreaming, never jaded; to all persons who have not yet managed to find their feet, to all who use this space outside of time, which are violated in such fundamental values as courtesy, politeness, elegance and respect for others. In short, it is to you I dedicate this text, my dear young friends!
