As a new commuter of the Paris metro, its architecture fascinates me. This gigantic network, dug in the belly
of the city which people use, and travel through only for its function, to get them from point A to B, alone in their little world, in their thought, their music.
I’m looking for that moment when I feel lost, almost completely digested by the bowels of this great beast that lives only through the people coursing through it.
That moment when a corridor turns, when the stairs lead up to somewhere unknown and reassuring because I’m getting this much closer to the surface.
To see the Metro as an unending network of tunnels horribly similar to bowels and intestines,
that seems dead and rotting as soon as people vacate the place.