I'm standing on a sidewalk in the early morning. The great avenues of Paris are silent, and the shops are closed. From a bakery comes the smell of fresh bread. Suddenly, a man with long hair and a lamp on his head appears from a hole in the sidewalk. He is soon followed by a young woman holding a lantern. Mud covers their boots. The man places the iron cover over the hole and takes the woman's hand. Together, they run down the street, smiling.