A few clinical, aesthetic and political notes taken on the fly, after a long period of frequenting the Paris metro:
1.
The official RATP painter should be Jérôme Bosch.
Sulphurous vapours, toothless homeless, icy wind, erratic lunatics, boiling dampness, perverse field mice having a field day, damned compacted in the cauldron of the oar, permanent ambush, excruciating feeling of having it for an eternity , ringtones of torture, the sadistic feminine voice of an executioner who insults the misery of his victims by adopting a sugary tone to announce a new ordeal to them, appalled faces, distorted by the pitiless fate of martyrs of public service alongside scrubbers, cads, the panicked, the standing sleepers.
And this feeling that the demon is at work, forever.
Read alsoBetween fatigue and anger, the fed up of public transport users
2.
It would therefore be logical that the official writer of the RATP was Dante: “Beyond this limit between the surface and the underground, abandon all hope.”
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