City of Light


the Paris subway is a subterranean labyrinth

which      like the underground tunnels of mines nourishes

and bleeds

the glittering surface life


we advance

from darkness to darkness

through tunnels of yellow light we walk

through long corridors standing       motionless       we float along automatic stairways

or perpetually moving sidewalks like dolls

or silent mannequins from darkness to darkness


until suddenly


we come


in the open air

and the white perfection


of Notre Dame   clear and precise dazzles us



                    atmosphere of the Seine

          white sun against white clouds

a white bridge stretches
                     lingering arches

over water that runs to us from the past

laden with recollections

it merges        with ours


as diving gulls

merge with


reflections of the sun

on the water


. . . Hail . . .

. . . those who are to die . . .








we descend

below the surface

here a man seated on the ground has removed a boot

to display the hideous stump of his mangled foot as he stretches out his hand

a little further we are met by the dissonant screams

of a young man accompanied by his guitar who sings with his cap on the ground a song of joyful    contagious    rhythm with a face of paralyzed despair


the hordes rush by them


it has been ten hours since they left their homes through black and frozen streets now they return again

through black and frozen streets

at times their faces

devoid of expression



in tiny muscular spasms



during the journey                       and then on the platforms

we are met by

one advertisement after another that promise happiness at a discount

or on the installment plan


all we have to do is buy

a pair of stockings       tube of toothpaste   building lot or the brand of television that guarantees

the happy union of a family


(upon the wall we see displayed the happy faces of the children

watching the image of a cowboy behind them the happy faces of the parents

happy to see their children finally happy)

in one such station

next to the vending machines for cigarettes and candy there is a glass behind which several mannequins model the effect of different wigs


one of them

by means of an ingenious mechanism demonstrates the contrast between baldness and hair by the slow and rhythmic raising and lowering of a luxuriant toupee of natural hair



on the 26th day of November

in the Louis Blanc station

of the Paris subway

there was an explosion

that reduced a ticket booth to rubble and wounded several passengers


the detonation was tremendous

but the causes have not been discovered

perhaps it was due

to an accumulation of despairs


that sooner or later had to find an outlet


that sooner or later

will explode

and send up flying through white air

among the gulls

fragments of the white bridge that stretches lingering arches

over the Seine

before the terrified eyes

of the prophetic gargoyles of Notre Dame