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There's always
something strange about the people on the other side of the
line. It's like they're so close and yet so far. Just a
briefcase's throw away and yet no question that you would
actually make contact with them in any way apart
from the odd furtive glance and swiftly avoided eye-contact.
Typical Parisian life. Separate lives.
Great station this, by
the way, if you don't know it already. Cluny la Sorbonne, as
you can see, with the ceiling plastered (well, mosaiqued)
with the pseudo-signatures of all the famous people who have
lived in the area. Astounding. What a job that must have
been!
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