Paris unfolds before my eyes and I drown in its sad gloom.

Faces, gestures, telling stories lost in the void of the temporal space of subway commuting. The endless tiredness of poverty slipping on the concrete. Moments of silence in a reality that strips the soul alive.

A working-class, tired, ruthless Paris away from the facade of la vie en rose. "I have got dreams to remember" sings Otis Redding. 

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