The Metro always seemed to attract the homeless of Paris. And the homeless abounded. The broken bodies of the war to end all wars and the more recent flotsam of the 2nd World War. Then of course there were those of unsound mind anyway. Often they would sleep on the air vent gratings that whooshed with warm air from below. A sight I will never forget was on our orientation tour of Paris, there was a couple lying over a grating enjoying a bottle of something. She wore only a tattered coat. We could all determine this because the coat was completely open displaying an unwashed and very hairy body that would never grace a cover of Play Boy. But there were also many struggling musicians playing for sous in the miles of underground corridors which was very pleasant indeed.

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