A piece from my graphic novel project " - I find it difficult know whether I should thank my empty pockets for the opportunity to see the other side of An-Laenort, the Soaring City. A comfortable cabin, three meals a day, a cigar lounge, and observation bridges for four magistrate pounds per passenger. So, I could only afford to observe the scarlet passenger ships of the Transport Company "An-Laenort", disappearing in the gray unsteady Shroud. But, as I mentioned in past records, the Berra Shipyards are good because there are alternative forms of transport to suit the traveler’s wallet. After four days of flight, I arrived in An-Laenort aboard a small merchant barque, which stank of tar, soot and salty poultry meat. Our ship, keen to make haste, slipped under the protection of windbreakers. Afforded this coverage, every passenger would be allowed to go on the deck, and not just the crew with their safety hooks. This was the first time I saw the Scraport – the local name for a series of platforms on the outskirts of the city, set aside for the discharge, sorting and recycling of iron waste. The breath of the City was enveloping us - clouds of yellow smoke from a multitude of factory pipes. Some of the passengers hid their faces under the headscarves. Yet, I could not take my eyes off the endless rust-red maze that was floating fifty feet under the keel. Here and there, the power-saws of the workers sparked when flaying the metal carcasses of dead giants. There were hills formed from iron sheets, scraps of pipes and empty fuel tanks. And, it seemed to me, in the midst of all this, I saw children playing, conquering rusty castles, jumping over gorges, and throwing nuts at the monsters flying slowly over them."