Metro [antikvár]

I love the Moscow Metro, to me there is nothing better in the entire world. Some people say there is nothing better than the Taj Mahal, but I know they're wrong. In the Moscow Metro there's a Taj Mahal at each station. Anyway, what kind of name is Taj Mahal? Taj Mahal? What a silly sound, what a tongue twister! But the word Metro is something else. It has a special ring to it. It speaks of beauty, harmony, and hidden strength - especially the Circle Line. This line embraces the centre of Moscow, drawing its one-hour underground circle which rings the heart of the city and connects all its nerves and arteries. There is no better place to feel the city's pulse. Throughout the day, jam-packed trains run along the Circle Line. There is no end to the river of people, as there is no end to the circle. Alcoholics worship this line. It's their haven - there's no need to worry about being dumped out and arrested at the last stop; they can keep on circling around and around until they sober up, and the best part is that the farther they go, the closer they are to where they started. The Metro is a world in itself - in the winter it's warm down there, cool in rhe summer. And it's always sparkling clean. No Russian would dream of spitting on the Metro's marble floor; he'd sooner spit on the coat of another passenger. When I walked along the spotless platform under the high Romanesque ceilings, mosaics and crystal chandeliers all around, my entire body took in the sparkle of the station - my eyes, the whiteness of the marble walls; my hands, the pleasing feel of the nickel poles; my feet, the smoothness of the polished stone. Why the modernization of Russia started with the hanging of i