In Tokyo, they saw a fat Japanese standing in a doorway, staring out into a twilight street where yellow children were playing a curious game. The next day, they were above China.

In China, they saw a long narrow river, twisted like a silver whiplash, across flat lands to the ocean. The next day they were above the mountains, where it was cold.

When they reached India, they slept in a low dirty town: a wind, as hot and sticky as a conjurer's hand, passed slowly in the air. After breakfast, they flew away.


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