I'm in a place where people travel in lift. It looks like a airport, with white tiles and tired travelers, but people wait around lifts rather that gates. The economic classes travels standing up, twenty per lifts, while paying extra allow you to travel seated, zight per lift. I wait my turn, holding a crystal teardrop shaped phial. When it fills with bright yellow foarm, I know it's time to get in. I enter my lift and open the folding seat, it's red velvet. accross from me is a middle aged busness man, to my right a woman, to my left the door. The lift fills in and the door close with a ting! then we're moving up. The man sitting in front of me starts to go on and on about how he can't différenciate men and women of asian origin and how they all looks the same to him. I dryly remark that a chinese man could say that all western men look the same to him, and of course he is rightfully indignant, not getting the hint. We get off the lift and I go on my merry way, reaching a sort of seminar. A man hand me inking supplies and I find a table to try them, edging myself between rather famous artists in the process.
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