Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.
“Three bikers in metallized boots and Mad Max leathers sat at the outdoor tables. They formed a feral presence in the hypermodern complex, like carrion-birds on a skyscraper cornice, filling an unplanned niche in the ecology of the future.”
J. G. Ballard | Super-Cannes