"The sorry tale started in Portugal, what, five, six years ago? when the WALK sign came on, and S—— darted across the road, secure in the knowledge that oncoming vehicles are prevented by the laws of physics from turning her to jam. Eighteen-wheelers screeched and veered to avoid her; fire-hydrants exploded; babies in prams were flung into the air; old Portuguese women in black kissed their rosaries. After catching up with her, I asked her why she did not look both ways before crossing — But the light was green! — But a light can't stop cars! — But cars must stop!

In retrospect, I see that, perhaps, she had unshakable trust more in socialization than in the magic of signification. I see this now because yesterday J—h— was telling me about the New York subway, how it was depressing, how there was nothing keeping people on the platforms from falling into the abysm of the tracks. I was gently pointing out to him that there was nothing keeping people from doing just that in MRT stations either when I realized that, verily, there was, in Singapore, the indomitably material barrier of obedience."