The espresso machine behind me was hissing like an angry snake. The sound it made had something malicious, not to say diabolical. Perhaps, I thought, most of the modern sounds around us have that something. The intimidating, angry roar of jet planes as they tear through the sky like lightning; the slow, threatening rumble of an underground train approaching inside the tunnel; the heavy vehicles of road transport that make even the foundations of your house shake… Even the smallest noises coming from our household appliances, as useful as their function may be, still convey a sense of alarm. Dishwashers, refrigerators, pressure cookers, vacuum cleaners with their constant buzzing – they all seem to say, “Be careful. I am a genie condemned to serve you, but if you fail to control me…”
A dangerous world – that was it, a dangerous world. I stirred the frothy contents of the cup that had just been placed in front of me. It smelled pleasant. “What else will you have? A nice banana and bacon sandwich, perhaps?” The combination seemed strange and contradictory to me. I associated bananas with my childhood – or, occasionally, flambéed with sugar and rum. In my mind, bacon was linked with eggs. However, when you’re in Chelsea, eat like you’re in Chelsea. I consented to the nice banana and bacon sandwich.
Although I lived in Chelsea – in the sense that for the past three months I had been residing in a furnished apartment in the area – in every other respect I was a stranger to these places. I was writing a book on specific elements of Mongolian architecture, but for that purpose, I could just as well live in Hampstead or Bloomsbury or Streatham or Chelsea, and it would make no difference to me. I paid no attention to anything around me except what had to do with my work, and the neighborhood was completely indifferent to me, since I lived in my own world.