“Vous ne pouvez aller de l’avant..”
My #French is dodgy but not as bad as my companion. I look at her face and #translate what I think the guide has said; that we can only go forward, not back. She looks at me with horror and I grimace.
Ahead of us lies one long tunnel, lined floor to ceiling with bones. Shaking off a severe case of the heebie-jeebies I walk onwards and try to stop looking to the side of me but I can’t. I find myself fixated with the varying sizes of skulls embedded into the walls some of which I can unfortunately tell are very small. The tunnels on first impression are pretty and lined with fairly dim lighting casting an eerie glow.
It’s cold and I can’t help but wonder which busy #Parisian street we are currently walking under and which we’ll exit onto. This is until I see the plaques scattered about the walls and wander over to read them. Thankfully I can read this beautiful #language better than I can speak it so the longing of these words is not lost on me. Suddenly, as much as I appreciate seeing this slice of history I feel like I’m being disrespectful so I walk the rest with eyes averted apologetically.