There is literature that lack, that of the men and women who were concerned too much living to have time to tell it, to make literature. So quune significant part of the experience human, the most important perhaps, is absent from the general story, dun know certainly acquire "proxy" but is also incentive to live more and not to remain a spectator of other people's lives . Fortunately, there are some exceptions that make some individuals nayant no a priori marked vocation for writing, lie on the occasion of some enforced leisure, eager to pass on their use of life and places that will hear; as they say in passing. And then return to the main thing, far from any idea of career. This book is part of this category. It took the author a strong motivation to get up to louvrage. As an emergency. This emergency cétait the heart of old Paris being dissolved in the 50s of last century, when the footsteps of François Villon and the popular Paris seffacer definitely beginning to the ground in the capital even as his last lost children there drowned their youth. So that Jacques Yonnet likely to consider it a duty to broadcast at least some bits of this secret knowledge that his experience had acquired him. In dune touch strange population that wasnt such as for privacy even with these places where time was still deep in the most dilapidated buildings of past secrets quivering in its narrow streets with cobblestones glistening of moisture who knew so keep track centuries in his dives so favorable unlikely encounters and confidences whispered in shadow. Nothing in this fictitious "chronic" - A book for initiates.