The Damned are miserable and noisy. Sculpture 2

The tympanums at Vezeley and Autun depict the final judgement. To God’s left, are the happy souls on their way to heaven. On the right are the you-know-whos. And if you didn’t know, you could guess. The damned look miserable. They also make noise. They moan, shudder, sigh, shout and shriek. What a racket. In general, the holy are a quiet lot. They smile beatifically or discretely rejoice. Occasionally, one may toot on a horn but not for a long time. Not enough to be annoying or make you want to complain to the management.
It may be a minor point, but misery is louder than joy. I’m reminded of the morning we took Claire to the train station. Her train left at at 5:00am. You know us. How could we ever get anyone anywhere at 5:00am? Simple. We spent the night on a street by the station. Had it been possible, we would’ve parked on the train platform. Claire could’ve leapt from the camper directly into the train – in her pyjamas Unfortunately, that wasn’t allowed. So we got as close as possible and unwittingly parked on the road to hell.
I never heard anything like it. Maniacal music from upper story flat windows, articulated lorries squealing, honking. revving, backfiring. People scuttling. Masses of people, shouting, exclaiming, howling, bellowing and screeching. All night long, there were hysterical arguments between friends, lovers – maybe casual acquaintances – I don’t know. But they kept arguing.
Who were these people and where were they going? I can’t say for sure. After a sleepless night, Claire caught her train in good time. Feeling virtuous, we got in the van, rubbed our tired eyes, and drove in the opposite direction.