He decided. It was something that bothered him no end. He took a plane across the ocean, an afternoon flight, soft music played, and supper was served. He rode a train into the city. The station was built on a lake that looked like a sea. Clouds came in across the sky. He walked up a street of stone squares cut out like flowers. The street was steep and it took him some effort to reach his hotel. He checked in and had a drink in the lounge. He wrote a postcard home, which he’d send come morning, first thing.