I sat one morning at a table in a fast-food restaurant, facing a window coated with a film of dirt and grease. An employee appeared outside with a bucket of water and sponged the grime away. It was like the raising of a curtain on a stage. Now I could see clearly the scene outside. In the immediate foreground was an asphalt parking lot; beyond that a stretch of winter-browned grass, relieved of monotony only by a cluster or two of leafless shrubs. An ambulance pulled away from a diner on the far edge of the lumpy lawn. Distant signs proclaimed the presence of a cinema, a bank, and a grocery store. Sea gulls from a nearby river floated casually overhead, occasionally gliding to the ground to snatch a morsel of food. A small airplane parted the sky, while traffic flowed steadily on the highw…