Gray and rainy, as usual. Point of view: Deckard. Out the windshield, the road streams by. He glances at the indicator lights: translucent signs scrolling vertically, like a series of post high-tech hieroglyphs. ‘The secrets of the Egyptians were also secret to the Egyptians’, he thought to himself. Where was Rachel? She had left her purse in the car, but no forwarding address. Or phone number. Only that metallic colored lipstick. Everything was metallic in his universe; it was difficult to tell her lips from anything else.

Text by Aaron Schuster
Image by Jeanne-Salomé Rochat