Monday, July 18, 2005

Airport

We headed out at 5:30 m to Pierson Airport in a cab driven by a small Italian man who looked and acted like a character in a Martin Scorcese film. After checking our luggage, we sat in a coffee stand and attempted to resucitate our still dormant brain cells. La jetee was painted in a dully soothing grey and largely resembled a mental institution; it uses the same architectural effects to shield its inhabitants from the passing of time. It is pointedly ahistorical. The people it was designed for are coming and going to various locations, but they are, ideally, all fugitives from history.

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