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Underground tunnels; dim lighting; the sounds of musicians playing their instruments for money, and sounds of trains rushing 1n and out of each of the nearly 400 stations; the smell of urine slightly covered by grape-scented disinfectant: such are the memories I have of the metro of Paris. Though these descriptions probably don't sound overly appealing to the average person, I have always had a certain fascination for subway systems. An odd fascination, I suppose, but they have always rather intrigued me. I suppose it probably has something to do with seeing the subway as another world, an "underworld": ethereal, dark, mystical. As it said in one of the quotes I hung on the gallery wall with my SIP, "The metro has indeed contributed a new element of mystery and of dreams-- all the secrets of millions of existences circulating in the subterranean." People tend to overlook the beauty, the art of the metro, which does indeed exist. They get so caught up with the idea of a subway being dirty and dangerous and damp and dreary, to notice its "charm." As I pointed out in my supporting text in the gallery, the metro is art. Not only is it a subject of countless paintings and drawings, as well as decoration for more practical, everyday i terns such as candy boxes and cheese containers, but it is also the scene for movies, the setting for novels, and is art down to its very structure. It has been called "the longest museum in the world."