The aircraft touches down, you are checked in and tipped out into the throng of the foreign land. Even if the street level does not offer any matchless sensual delights, you vibrate internally with expectation. In this mood the most commonplace things stimulate you to thoughts and impulses.

But on arrival in the USA I am not overwhelmed by this sense of well-being. I am sceptical about the shape and colour of the buildings, the state of the pavements, the signs and the atmosphere at those places where coffee is served. I am depressed by people’s clothes and appearance, taken aback by the affected tone of voice; and those snatches of conversation that I catch rarely make an uplifting impression. The area of Queens where I mostly end up is not a poor area, but a nimbus of human poverty lies over it. “You’ve gotta feel good, baby, good...!!!” thunders from a passing car stereo. Well, that is precisely my dar...