Martin Page. How I became an idiot (№ 3789)

Cars belched exhaust fumes that hung in the air like the pollen of a new era, settling in the lungs of Parisians and seeding flora of the coming of a sick civilization. The agony of vegetation - trees, bushes, grass, - silent and invisible to the human eye, perceiving only what moves habitually into the system of urban life. The car worked the new man that will have no legs to walk on paved roads to your dreams, and will be some wheels.