Cab covers much of the way to the airport speeding. 95 mph. Driver’s name: Lorraine-Delavriere-Hauteux, identification number 1-9-6-7, Taxicab and For Hire Vehicles Bureau License. Name of the Cab Company, translated from Haitian Creole: Sweets Losses. Car's vermilion with bluish signs. Now Kenner is a dazzle white bloodbath. The land is swollen. Dark collection of black garlands under a thousand year old damp dome. This dome is living here. It moves and crushes the metal structures of the airport, the corroded vaults of the hangars, the service roads for the collapse of time. In the years before the catastrophe, the airport could boast about a prestigious speed record in goods uploading and downloading. The proverbial speed with which they deprived the bellies of civilian aircraft, amassing the baggages of lonesome passengers. Lorraine's neck is pretty minute and compact. By force of circumstances a white off measure t-shirt makes her exaggerated, makes her dirtier than she can be in the Eden Valley. Hair are crisps and brown with touches of red lead, while a nichel-necklace is made of emerald green wooden balls. Drive like a maniac in the the streets of December, the bolt of lightning goddess at the mercy of the white-haired martyr. Refineries with filled yellow lights. Trombone Yellow. Sulfur. Amber. Unnatural heights antennas - intermittent crimson. Dormant Telecommunications in Kenner's lie. Lorrie drives. She goes on. One nine seven six Taxicab and For Hire Vehicles Bureau License. We left Canal at 6.50 am. Take off at 9.45. Junctions are critical points. Asphalt grafts with condensation. In this darkness I can not see the color, but I know they are light gray. It should be a light gray patina. Lorraine pushes the car and when we pass over the spacers, tires lose traction and we swerve slightly. Nothing dangerous. Only centripetal forces, accelerations that dominate a body, the kinematics of human dissatisfaction. Passing Through. Highway has regular bumps, black arched membranes. The forty-minute journey is about to die. International departures entrance is crawling from the blackland.
