I’ll be adding stuff here.
But in the mean time, here’s a quick memory. When I was 8 or so, I rode the New York City subway to school. One time, a person tapped me on the shoulder. He wore dark sunglasses, a 1950s DA type haircut and a leather jacket. He held out his hands while his eyebrows tipped up, disappointed in me. “Hey,” he said, “come on.” He balanced an artist’s portfolio between his legs. I think I might have knocked it over, but had no sensation of bumping into anything. I’ve always wondered what this person was upset about.