Looking for a way back in.
Take page from Cortazar, build story from chapter of existing narrative.
Bill Pullman’s Fred character walks into void in Lynch’s Lost Highway. Exits into megacity BsAs. Streets never sleep. Obsessed with finding the right flavor of coffee at any late night corner dive. People told him it was like Paris but he doesn’t believe them. Leaves one crumbling dance at 3am to find freshly dressed couples leaving for the night. The night is young they say in the city that is lit by night.
Fred returns to his task of recreating the city block by block out of balsawood. He will light it on fire but chickens out at the last minute, holding onto the only memory he has. When he closes his eyes he still sees the streets moving and the dance he never left in the room with the 20 ft ceiling that threatens to cave in. Wakes to find himself teaching writing to a mixed bag class of never-weres and old high school rivals. His apartment is always in a state of repair. Scaffolding everywhere and no curtains and the drip drip drip of a leaky faucet.
He’s found the right coffee at last and gazes skyward at every monumental glass and marble highrise he passes in the cab. He will always look like a tourist; his enthusiasm gives him away.
