The cry of the fire

In Paris, at noon, on Wednesday, every first Wednesday of the month...

This equation makes the 10-minute time when you have to shut your ears, or find a place to hide. A cry with a mechanical voice breaking through the air, a sad voice, like a pig's final plead for mercy. And it reminds me of London and Shanghai...

The two badly bombed cities during the wars.

I had never experienced an air raid, yet, every month in Paris, at this hour, I want to find a place to hide.

The first time I heard of this was last November when I was new to this city, and I turned to the girl next to me... "Is this a commemoration of the end of WWI?" I gave her a question mark. Given that this is a girl from the prestigeous Ecole Normale Superieure, I expected something superior relating to this city, to this school and this solemn moment of silence and cry... I was wrong.

This is nothing more than the monthly rehearsal of the Parisien fire alarm system!!

Wo..wo..WO... It continues its mourning... Wo..wo...WO... "now I want a place to hide away, oh, yesterday, came suddenly!"