Nowhere.

"When the volcano finally lit up again, and a huge “Oooooh!” went up from everyone in the balloon, it might also have been possible to discern, standing on top of the zeppelin, with the starry sky above him, the figure of Vango emblazoned in red. Glowing swallows flew like sparks around him. The air was mild. Vango had just realized where he was."

Vango by Timothée de Fombelle (Translation from french by Sarah Ardizzone)

haha this piece end up so dramatic it was not my goal but anyway.

"It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again But as it is, and it is We're just two slow dancers, last ones out We're two slow dancers, Last ones out

And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down You see it on both our skin We get a few years and then it wants us back