Recently, I found myself traveling on the Paris Metro. I got the distinct impression that everyone in the cars was giving each other the cold shoulder, avoiding eye contact, and silence reigning, except, often, for noisy groups clearly trying to annoy the other passengers.

During a stop, a woman of indeterminate age, accompanied by a portable sound system, entered the carriage.

My immediate thought was: "She's going to ruin my trip even more!" I retreated behind my newspaper. Everyone around me was clearly displaying the same attitude, some behind their books, others glued to their iPods or other devices. It was in this hostile atmosphere that the woman began to sing a cappella, without music, aided only by her amplifier.

Immediately, the magic happened. Her voice was beautiful and husky, a moan. The lyrics evoke a battlefield, not a war song, but rather an infinite sadness, the song of the dead rising from a charnel house to explode into a call to life, a hymn to joy, a song of the living.

Inside the train car, something strange happens: all eyes are fixed on the woman. Headphones are removed, cell phones put away, books closed. A woman in a secluded spot weeps silently, her tears flowing freely, without shame.

Before leaving us, without begging, the singer speaks to her and caresses her cheek; a fairy has just passed by… How much humanity there is in this exchange.

I am definitely becoming sensitive, and this “incident” makes me think that all is not lost despite the brainwashing machines, the media hysteria, and the cacophony that overwhelms us.

A song, a simple song performed masterfully by an angel, restores our humanity.

What happened?

A lesson for sure! I'm happy to share it!