There was a French short story, The Office For The Exchange of Ills. You went there and traded your problem for someone else's. The protagonist goes and exchanges his crippling fear of the dark for the fear of riding in an elevator, and walks out, happy as can be. Then he comes to the elevator that he must ride to the ground floor. He is near death with fear. I thought this had relevance to your very well done picture. (Le Bureax de Exchange de Maux, and it is by Lord Dunsany, and I found it on the net in a second) I guess it is not French at all. Bon Soir!