CHRONICLE – This eleventh chronicle of the Pedestrian of Paris only mentions people who slept less than five hours.
Wednesday – yesterday – 5am. Paris has a modest alarm clock. That of the garbage collectors, of a night owl cyclist. On Rue des Bernardins, a man snores in his sleeping bag. We woke up early for the sport, also out of naivety. A woman in a bar told us that she had been told that by connecting at 4:30am to the Olympic ticketing website, it was possible to find tickets for less than 100 euros. She herself had not checked but was willing to believe it. At 4:24am, the ticket for the diving event cost 275 euros, no athletics ticket for less than 300 euros. The night was lost, so we got up to take advantage of the dawn, cross Paris to the Montparnasse train station. At 8am, we had to welcome a group of young people from Nantes there anyway. Residents of QPV districts – working-class districts – to whom the Léo-Lagrange Federation offers places for the athletics event.
At 5:45, the sky is a mauve-gray. The streets are deserted. The Pantheon displays its new…
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