CARAMBOLAGE - FOOTNOTES

CARAMBOLAGE - FOOTNOTES

Five people in the car, the night crawling over the hood like a famished cat.

The road, empty, stretches out before us, indifferent, and the tires whisper secrets to the asphalt. The leather creaks, the earth waits for its moment. A turn, badly taken — too fast, too late, no matter. Silence falls, heavy like a hangover after a night with no bottom. Then the impact, sharp, frontal, without appeal.

01:12. Everything explodes. The leather tears, the earth crashes the party, glass flies into tiny shards, like the dreams stomped on in the morning. The din fills the cabin, fear seeps everywhere, into the folds of clothes, into the throat, into the hands. No why, no how, just terror, raw, unexplained.

After, nothing. Silence, heavy, five lives suspended, the world upside down, literally. I find myself trapped in the wreckage, out of breath, my head spinning. One question pounding: is it over?

01:13. A door opens, somewhere, mine, someone else’s, what difference does it make? The night covers everything, saying nothing, like an old accomplice. The road goes on, and so do I. It’s all that’s left, and that’s already something.