I slide the window open and see the yellow-spotted grid, that circuit board below. The past's vision of what they thought the future might be. What would they have to say about it now? Would they speak a word? Would they be too dumbfounded? The man next to me smacks down almonds, following each with a force of wind through his loose lips, some sort of horse-noise. And as the wheels descend upon the tarmac I only think about how traversing this country by horse, now that would be something. There is no romance left in these giant metal birds I think. There is only entitlement and unwanted sounds, unwanted smells. Disconnect. But I suppose it does give you the view. Perspective. So that you can learn things as I have learned. Have these thoughts knocked from you as you and your fellow strangers come crashing down upon this lonely city.
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