The main road, thick with cars. Big cars. Company cars, shining, pristine! BMWs, and that sort of thing. It's so crowded! So congested! There's no space here, W. says. Every road's going somewhere... Every car's on its mission... 

W. sees our inability to drive as a kind of heroism. We're holding out!, he says. We're the last pedestrians! Cars are a materialism of capital, he says. An embodiment of capitalist flows. It's the same with the planes that cross the sky. We must have nothing to do with planes, W. says. We must never fly again.