Paris Metro, 6:00 am, ticket in hand, the journey begins.
This marks the entrance into one of Europe's most beautiful metro systems, and by extension, the third largest after London and Madrid.
More than 5 million people move from one side of the city to the other in a single day, like fish carried by a raging river. It is a multitude of men and women, of different races and social positions, moving with disarming and elusive speed.
Within the metro, the world moves with its own dynamics. While outside, movement and hustle reign, inside the train cars everything seems to come to a halt, everything transforms, crystallizes, dominated by thoughts or technology. Everyone, regardless of race, social background, or age, becomes uniform: all with their cell phones, tablets, computers, newspapers, or books, isolating themselves from the outside world. No one knows who is next to them, no one observes the world around them, no one can grasp the beauty, perhaps, of a man with a regal appearance who resembles an African prince, or the lost eyes of an Arab who seems to have materialized from an Aladdin-like tale, or even an elderly person with a distinctly English look, magically emerging from an old Guy Hamilton film.
Everything continues, and the train cars become enormous spaceships in a universe devoid of humanity.
