Among the noises of the station, a moan breaks through and makes my head spin. Not because of the volume, far below the bustle of trains and people, but because of the rarity of the lament; sharp but serious, out of control. Where does that animal sound come from? It turns out to be the cry of a woman who turns her back, leaning over an information desk. Suddenly, a kind of anthropological thread, between compassionate and curious, unites us to her. It prevents us from taking our eyes off that convulsed body that now turns, and lets itself fall to the floor, squatting, with its head in its hands. The image of desolation. Other looks like mine observe him from a distance.
There are people eating potatoes or licking ice creams to cool off the heat, young people laughing and pushing each other, people calling or whispering to a mobile phone, families with bags, couples with dogs. The woman doesn't care, she cries on the floor like a baby. I start an approach in circles, with an anti-pollution cardboard cup, with coffee remains, stuck in one hand. Several heads circle around the tragic scene. Who is she? What does he work on? what's wrong with you is she drunk Crazy? How is it called? Has he received such terrible news that he falls to the ground to cry like this? Shall we all go? Do you have reasons? Is it justified? What world has just collapsed?
The heads approach us; and we could hold a meeting of heads to discern, secretly, if he belongs to our club of normal people, and it would be said that he does, because he wears fairly normal boots, a skirt and a blue jacket that we could wear any, brown hair that half her face is covered, no dirt is visible, and between her legs she has dropped a bag from a clothing store, where she may have just bought something. Everything indicates that this woman belongs to our club. But when we get ready to put a hand on his shoulder, or caress his cheek, two security guards have already lifted him off the ground.
"What happened to him?", I ask one of them, as the woman walks away in her normal boots and dark blue jacket. "He has lost the documentation", he replies. "Ah - I say - I thought it was something worse". The man looks me in the eyes. "Don't think about it, it's very important for them", he says. And then I fall.
