The pages will show you English roses in pale frocks, demoted princesses, horrible prose. Distill your envy till it is a bright blue light that you can decant and serve to those who bless you with pity.

The man in the beige coat will say, "I was once a fire eater in Paris." He has long hair, wide eyes, a beak for a nose. You will talk about Murakami and Jane Jacobs. There are moments when you think his eyes are bright orange, but those moments quickly go away.