Most of the inhabitants of Lyon know that subsoil of the Croix Rousse and Fourvière is traversed by numerous galleries. Before the various prohibitions (and even after) to walk the subsoil of Lyon in the late 1980s, students were fond of underground walks. Moreover, there were few entries directly into schoolyards (now closed).

My pain, beech in a matchbox, and his head suffers all the rest. There are vents that are worthy of grace ...

It's easy to mount on top of a crane, there are ladders!

The underground chapel of the quarry of Chauffours, carved into the wall, to honor the fallen soldiers during the First World War. There is also a wonderful fresco on the right.

A building under demolition. There remains only the supporting structure.

There are statues of saints in the niches at the bottom of the buttresses. On the left side, a niche remained empty because you can not see inside the ground. This is optimization!

There is 5 rooms like this under the big dome of the opera Garnier.

The structural wood burned in a fire in 1836. the wood structure was replaced by a metal frame. There was restoration work in 1995 because she was aging. Photographs were taken by a photographer Regional. His photographs are exhibited in a room halfway up the blazing gotical tower.

This corridor is almost completely around one of the last level gave me the solution to the legend that surrounds the courthouse in Brussels. Indeed, the legend says there are so many rooms that nobody really knows the number. It would suffice to count them you say? Certainly, but the legend also says that some rooms are hidden! And it's true! This corridor will lead to narrowing to a dead end. But shortly before, once a straight line (since it is the turn of the last square base, so that makes 4 times) there is a steep staircase, added a bit anyway, which is sometimes blocked the passage a pipeline. This staircase leads into empty rooms mysteriously seem to have been recently refurbished (light, electrical outlets). Impossible to know what they were good or what they will be used, it is already difficult to access with empty hands, imagine the trouble we have to make a table! No other access to these rooms, no windows.

One of the many leaflets Claustrophile long to read.

I feel lonely. Sitting on the edge of a puddle, waiting night after night came from an image, even furtive, which will warm my frozen heart. Boredom is deadly but I am perhaps more myself.
I do not control my movements. It seems I am doomed to remain motionless near the puddle. I can sit there, going to bed at the top in every sense, to slip under the surface. But I can not go away. Several weeks have passed already, maybe more. I lost track of time. I also lost touch and smell.

It all began one evening in July, right here. I rode north through here. I walked into the puddle and I did not immediately understood what was abnormal about it opposed the reaction to my muddy boots. In retracing my steps that I understood, without understanding anything beyond. The water that I had defiled was perfectly clear! I did another test, stirring the surface with my dirty soles. But water does not disturb and do not wash my boot. Worse, it penetrated the boot but no step had resulted. I started to jump in with both feet, there was no splash. I thought mad.
I think when I last had committed error in allowing my curiosity until that train was going to lose. I squatted and I plunged his hand into the water. I could see through transparency, I felt the cold touch and wet. But the water do not wobble. If I was raising in my palm and I let her run, she immediately incorporated the puddle remained perfectly motionless. I was scared.
But after a few minutes I emerged reflects a man who looked at me. I was scared to see it without having heard it, but it was nothing of the horror that awaited me next. Because when I turned around there was nobody behind me. This man existed only in reflection. And only in this puddle. I saw him once. It was already too late.
I was terrified. The stranger in the mirror and spoke agitated, as if trying to tell me something. But he remained silent to my ears. I panicked. I wanted to run but I was so scared I did not notice the sky of the quarry. I myself am hit with unprecedented violence. I think the shock was fatal.
Where I felt back up, I saw myself lying with his head in a puddle of blood flowing to the puddle of water. But when I looked at the puddle that is me that I could not see. I had no reflection.
The body was lying nearby was finally identified but it was not mine wearing my clothing and my backpack.
It was the man I saw in the reflection! He set off again in flesh and blood, for me, leaving me alone and trapped in my fate! I could not even follow him, as if the puddle of water had been magnetized. Since I am still waiting in the darkness, someone realizes that the puddle is still ...

Maybe you than I expected. You who picked up this pamphlet, a little better scans the surface of the water ...