Recently, a few months earlier, I had seen a banana peel lying on the cobblestones, and I’d stood awhile to wait and see what would happen, but no one slipped on it. The residents of Zurich were of course too shrewd to slip on a banana peel. They were too superior, too confident, too steeped in that grand Zurich world of theirs, in which they shopped in boutiques whose vertiginous monthly rents continued to sustain this, their Zurich.
