Highways exist neither in time nor in space. they are in between.
They links things that matter and the real stakes of our lives; they are nothing, if not a means where humanity is put into parenthesis, where bodies fly at superhuman speeds, where encounters between individuals are formal and without seduction.
On this axis, we come across one-another, we catch one-another and we overtake one-another without politeness, lured by the gain of time, the one that counts.Only primary life remains; we please our organisms like our vehicules, thanks to welcoming structures offering toilets, french fries and plastical hotels.
Highways are these marginal segments, which, freed from our usual societal constraints, enables anonymity, simple life, and sometimes a bit of bestial sex in the woods.
