itinerant

I couldn’t see the lights of the city when we came below the clouds, but only water, which streaked across the windows and wriggled and fell and formed again, and among those stringy lines some larger bubbles stayed and quivered till they were taken down. After we landed we taxied a long time and I went into fresh reverie and when I emerged from it I saw the tarmac smooth and shining in water, as though it was flooded a foot under it, but it was only a thin film that gave the illusion.

The doorman was tall in his long coat, like the columns of the porch around him, and I marveled at the splendor of the man while he removed my bags with the languor of the bored and the confident. The taxi driver wasn’t so impressed and he began to leave with my last bag still in the boot and the doorman lifted the bag and banged the lid with the full use of his strong arm, not for a moment pausing his regal flow.

He did peer a moment into the dark of the taxi to check if the offense he had returned had hit its mark.