"Next stop: Porta Romana. Next stop: Porta Romana". And 'one of those new meters: seats still not worn by time by time and thousands of commuters who will asses rubbing, wagons are all united with the look that you lose almost indefinitely, like being between two mirrors, creating nauseating effects at every turn and, above all, a nasty voice that every 2 minutes, the station announced. In two languages. But that's not what I want to grumble.
I leave the car, every time like a cork of champagne suddenly shot to the neck of a bottle of furred warlord who wake up in agony at least 3 of their first stops, placing the marble in front of the sliding door. In a flash
are facing a long, very high scale. No, not an escalator. I make the first steps with the other commuters who have dropped me. In the background, the clatter of the subway again. It happens that, more or less invariably when I sight down there, travelers at the top of the ladder who have recently passed the turnstiles into, begin to move faster. Always fast, eating at the steps at a time or two, depending on the length of the legs and scared of falling, in small little steps, one at a time, but fast. The looks desperate, parcels held in their hands tossed here and there, dripping umbrellas that shed drops in the eyes of the neighbors crazy.
do not understand why they do so when it is obvious: they have lost the meter!
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