9.25, transilien L.

There’s not a sound in the crowded wagon.

The passengers are all by themselves, silent on their way to work. Just like me, they decided to favour tranquility over expedition, transilien L over metro line 1. The wagon is as packed, the swelter as oppressive, but the atmosphere is wholly different.

Forget the aggravated sighs, grunts, and other signs of irritation. Here, the communication is direct and courteous. The few interactions are permeated with kindliness, the passengers relishing the delicacy of each request. Same needs, expressed through a different channel.

The occasional demand acceded, there only remains a soothing, surreal quiet.

One feels no need to produce a book or electronic device, only to revel and bask in this precious moment and carry it through the day, wielding it like a charm and a relic.

The second we step out of the train, the spell breaks and the usual brouhaha resumes. The moment is over. On to the routine.