Going home

Frankfurt was a dismal grey when I got in from London the following evening. (Yes, this is a colour picture.) The monorail between terminals whisks along its computer-controlled journey. I felt like a blade runner...

Is she a replicant? Or just a passenger on a monorail in a city whose future has passed?

"Have you ever taken the void-comp test yourself, Mr Pillay?"

Time to leave...

Table Mountain beckons from the window of the Lufthansa 747. It's home, I tell myself. For now, anyway. And yes, it's beautiful...