Imagine if you will, looking through the darkened glass of an airport terminal. There at the bar is a ghostly image of James Dean. His arms folded across the bar. His stare--far away. Beyond him on the ramp are other faint images. Tails of jetliners: Braniff, TWA, Pan American, Eastern and US Airways. You see US Air less faint, and the dark blue is not as brilliant as it once was. Dean snuffs out his cigarette and vanishes. The smoke lingers---the other images do not.
The terminal of broken dreams
The terminal of broken dreams
