The ghost of Jean Valjean - Lorenzo Di Gaio - Bog

This text can be considered a fantastic work, a thriller, or a fairy tale. Why, it all depends on our reading grid. A social novel, or a melodrama without music. It's a drama with a popular tone where twists and turns accumulate that no one expects. It is a modern thriller, the suspense will surprise the reader.
Antonio is an Italian immigrant, he arrived in France 30 years ago, he is around fifty years old. It comes from Mezzo, southern Italy. She misses him, her heart is still there, France is not a choice, but a necessity.
He lives in the Paris suburbs, in Montreuil, in Seine Saint-Denis. He works in the sewer service of the city of Paris, fixed-term employment contracts of six months, he no longer counts them. Over the past 20 years, he has reached the milestone of forty contracts.
He is a hero in spite of himself, he does not have the makings, he is a heartless individual, he reveals empathy towards those who have nothing. He's not a brawny guy with no brains.
Every morning, he goes to Paris by metro, in the eleventh arrondissement of Paris. Historic Paris opens the doors to him. The Faubourg Saint-Antoine, the Place de la Bastille, the Petite and Grande Roquette and the Boulevard de Ménilmontant belong to the world, these places are linked to history. The storming of the Bastille symbolizes the fall of arbitrariness, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
No matter where he goes, the past winks at him, other names continue the wonder, the cemetery of Père Lachaise, Beaubourg, the marsh. These are emblematic places of the capital.
But the story takes place underground. It is the underground city without Paris of cockroaches, rats, bad smells, the sun is absent, a pale light illuminates the walls. Jean Valjean crossed it. Here, we are not talking about the pedestrianization of the capital.
At sunrise, at the Square de la Roquette, he meets a homeless person, it's a woman, her name is Marcelle. Life across the street has faded its shine, it is a flower that has lost its beauty. His dull, laughterless face engenders pity. He chats with her about the passage of time. He places a loaf of bread next to her without saying a word, and leaves.
His job consists of monitoring, repairing the pipes, maintaining the sewers, the bad smell bothers him, in the evening, he takes the air, he breathes. The Parisian air allows it to chase away the bad odors of this underground city. He speaks of an abyss every time he descends.
One day, he sees a shadow, he convinces himself that it is the ghost of Jean Valjean, Victor Hugo wrote that he was mayor of Montreuil. The shadow drags a paw, Jean Valjean too.