At the customs counter Vasilla was asked a series of questions in English.“In Arabic, please,” said Vasilla, thumbing through his phrase book.“J...st go ahead,” replied the customs clerk.“Excuse?”“Just go, andelle, move.”And the customs clerk waved him through.New York would be unlike any other city. Already he had seen the diversity, many different faces: brown, black, yellow, and white, some in perpetual motion, some waiting impatiently, like a busy Meccan intersection. Indians, Japanese,. "Laura shrieked and looked around wildly, while her hands and arms tried to cover what the red nightie was designed to reveal. With the open ceiling and vaulted beams, the voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room at once. Then a movement by the fireplace caught her eye. One of the men in their group--Laura couldn't remember his name--had sat up from the depths of the overstuffed chair and was motioning her to come down."J-j-just a minute," stammered Laura as she backpedaled into her. More

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