John was a cheerful, intense young man of starry delusion. He seemed from another century, from all other centuries--he was dirty and greasy, his dark clothes had no recognized style, and he wandered through the city figuring it out: stop-lights ("They were Superman's idea. He's the crime-stopper. I'm not sure about the green. Do you know?"), baby carriages ("Rich people use them for their shoats, and poor people are just pretending. They're showing off. It's sad."), etc.

I wish I knew where he was.