The bus was going at a vertiginous speed. Night fell. Through the fogged-up windows the riders thrown against one another, as the bus shook along, saw fantastic landscapes unfold looking nothing like those of Parisian boulevards.…When Pearl White woke up, the bus had as if run aground on a deserted field. Thousands of empty cans were the only presence in these in-decipherable lands."[From, Homme sans tête]
-Pierre Drieu la Rochelle
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