Karl Rossmann and two companions are walking along the edge of the highway to New York City. The cars moving past them are “usually enormous, and so striking in appearance and so fleetingly present there was no time to notice whether they had any occupants or not”:
Franz Kafka, Amerika (The Man Who Disappeared), trans. from the German by Michael Hoffman (New York: New Directions, 2002).
A five-lane highway with tower-like elevations: it makes me think of Bruce McCall’s retro-futurism.
Also from Amerika
An American writing desk
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
A Kafka highway
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