To my left I am passing some smoldering airplane wreckage that hobos are scavenging among; they are collecting pieces of luggage and stacking them into piles, and seagulls are fomenting overhead, wheeling around like leaves in a dust devil.
So trippy how the author just drops in these horrific scenes of decaying social order in the background. Billy doesn’t keep up with current events, and is so used to seeing these disasters that they hardly register.
