“Follow me,” S said sternly. I obediently followed, swinging my extraneous arms, which seemed to belong to someone else. I couldn’t raise an eye and I walked, the whole time, in a wild, turned-on-its-head world: there were machines of some kind, their foundations on top of them, and there were people with feet glued antipodally to the ceiling, and below them, the sky was contained in the thick glass of the sidewalk. I remember: how very offensive it all was, that for the last time in my life I was having to see it all this way—overturned, unreal. But I couldn’t raise an eye.
