Pixie In The Lamborghini

Pixie in the Lamborghini. Part 8

[Music referred to in this section:

Sue McLaren & Suzanne Chesterton pres. Siskin – Connected;

Paul van Dyk and Aly & Fila feat. Sue Mclaren – Guardian;

Seven Lions feat. Lynn Gunn – Lose Myself;

SMR LVE feat. Roxanne Emery – Lost In Love (Extended Mix).]

The thing about all the newest showrooms of modern high end car dealerships – is they all look best at night-time. They're always all about the huge super-scale sized glass walls, the sweeping design elements of the architecture -, and the metal bits that reflect whatever light there is, be it from the rows of ultra-bright LEDs, or from the halogen floodlights outside, or from the moon, or from the blazing hot sun in places like Dubai or Riyadh.

So the contrast is always better at night, when the inky blackness all around is the velvet  fabric against which the purposefully applied rich people bling from the man-made structure glitters luridly.

Everything about modern rich man world is lurid.

There are poor people, and street people, and homeless people, starving people, displaced people and refugees – but the rich people endlessly build their steel and aluminium and glass pyramids and cubes and rhomboids and all sorts of other weird shapes with nothing else in mind than vanity disguised as all kinds of things except vanity.

Right now, Lamborghini showrooms have the motif of a huge 'L' standing for the brand name of course, but by and by when foolishly the transnational automotive cartels decide to push electric cars as the front line of all luxury vehicles, they will feature a giant 'E' and they will not care that people will say it stands for 'ego' not 'electric.'

Everything is about gigantism with the rich elites.

So when the diminutive-looking young girl with the pixie hair-cut walked up to the owner of the massive and grand, newly-built Lamborghini showroom, who was standing outside the front, shaking his head about the thump thump thump, the throbbing coming from a couple of miles away, he paid little attention to the small figure approaching him.

The throbbing was from the EDC festival.

There was a glow rising upwards to the black night from away in the distance but not much more than two miles away.

"Give me the keys."

She had a glassy high-register timbral voice, something odd too about the pronunciation of the words.

He laughed. "What?"

"Give... me... the keys."

"To what?"

"To your Veneno. The new one that you have."