In New York we meet with minds and egos, private personaliites in an exchange of egoboo, mutual flattering. Occasionally we hurl our bodies into one another, but the greatest intinacy there is the product of a social alienation yearning to be healed. Our political meetings are full of frayed, eurotic spasms, exchanges of gossip and factoids, peacocks spreading theri wings through the description of projects. The apogee of social engineering is but friendship. No line of inquiry is ever exhausted, only gestured at with a flourish. To the loss of territoriality is added a loss of metal stability, a fragmentation and globalisation of the mind, held in thrall to the relentless storm of information which circulates. Loss of self-definition other that of homo economicus and an incessant parade of made to wear personlaity types.