Don't tell anyone or they'll lock you up

So yesterday evening I was waiting for a phone call. There is a spot near the entrance to my work place on St Germain boulevard that I like to stand when I am waiting for both something and nothing so I headed there to wait for the phone to ring. From that little square cobbled point, which is on a side street off the main boulevard, I like to look out at the city passing by. On many an occasion I have stood looking at the map of the quartier and lost myself in thought about the streets, parks and buildings that are in the area.

The main thing about staring into a map and loosing yourself is that you definitely need a map to do it. There was no map here now. Having noticed this rather obvious gap in my view I still felt a question tugging at my brain. OK, where did this lamppost come from?

I stand in this spot a lot, almost every day, I find it hard to believe someone could sneak in a lamppost without me noticing. Other things were troubling me too. The lamppost looked like it had been there forever. It had even acquired the ubiquitous urine stains that surround almost every permanent structure in Paris.

I walked around it looking at the floor. Everything seemed normal. I pondered over it for a while and then came to the conclusion that this lamp post had definitely been placed there by aliens with a disliking to dimly lit side streets. I decided to get a second opinion because if you're going to go around telling people that aliens are redesigning the city you want to make sure that your story makes sense.

I went back into work, walked up to reception and said,
"have you seen that lamppost before?"
There was a small pause where the French and Russian receptionists processed the sentence in their minds to make sure that what they'd heard was what I had said.
"Are you all right?" Virginie asked me.
"Er, yeah but I was just wondering If you had seen that lamppost before", then added "Oh and the map is missing too!"
Virginie and Anton stood up and looked over the reception counter, looked at each other, agreed that the map had indeed disappeared and the lamppost was new. I asked if they knew when it had happened but they hadn't seen any construction men out there. They also said that they don't generally take a great deal of interest in maps and lampposts. It was a good point that I had to agree with them on. My interest in these things is usually limited to needing maps when I'm lost and if there is a light around when this happens it would help matters tremendously to see where I'm about to mistakenly send myself. The situation here was different in that I was intrigued as to when the post had got there and why it looked like it had always been there. I couldn't help thinking that Parisian maintenance crews were under obligation to install and antediluvianate all fittings in the city. The more I thought about it the more I kind of liked this idea.

I wondered how many other objects in the city had provoked this line of thought and how many other people would question their mysteries in the way that I had. I already knew of two people who wouldn't but there must be more who think like me. I posed the question in my English lesson and quickly discovered that in fact I am nearly the only one who thinks this way. There was one inquisitive man who, when running his regular route, had seen English graffiti on a Parisian pavement. It asked "Are you there?" He wanted to know what was a grammatically correct response to this and I had to reply with "No, I moved. Now I'm here".

Well I'm still here and I still don't know what those aliens really wanted to achieve with a brighter street but if they come across this story I would like to say to them that the new old lights are fine by me but please leave the maps alone, I get lost easily.