The heat was like walking into a wall; for a moment, I couldn’t find my balance. Then I bumped into somebody. That kept me from failing. But he was a tail man in an expensive suit, certain and pitiless, and as he recoiled his expression said plainly that people like me shouldn’t be allowed out on the streets. I retreated until I could brace my back against the hard glass of a display window and tried to take hold of myself. It was always like this; I was completely disoriented—a piece of cork carried down the river. Everything seemed to be melting from one place to another. Back and forth in front of me, people with bitten expressions hurried, chasing disaster. in the street, too many cars snarled and blared at each other, blaming everything except themselves. The buildings seemed to go up for miles into a sky as heavy as a lid. They looked elaborate and hollow, like crypts. And the beat—I couldn’t see the sun, but it was up there somewhere, in the first half of the morning, bidden by humidity and filth.
