4684. What of those chance encounters that happen in transit, when
one finds oneself on a street one never saw before and will never see again? Of
those fleeting interactions, some are forgotten in a moment, but there are
others that become printed in the memory and remain for a lifetime.
4685. This encounter
between Coromo and the stewardess of the plane was such an attachment. The
connection was formed while they slept together in the middle of the night,
their shoulders just slightly touching.
4686. Later he would
say to himself in jest, "I flew to New York, and on the way I slept with
one of the stewardess on the plane in the middle of the night." This
configuration of his was a joke, but there was no one but himself to relate it
to.
4687. From 5 to 6 in the morning all he could see out of the
window, aside from the wing, was the gray ocean down below shrouded in fog, and
then quite suddenly the ocean was replaced in his view by a most enormous
number of buildings, roads, tiny cars, and bridges.
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