I might have seen a man die this evening. It happened across the Danube canal from me in Vienna. I watched from my fourth-floor window. They did CPR with a machine, I think. It was startlingly indelicate, the machine. But to no avail, or none that I could see. Eventually, they took him, or his remains, away, and within an hour, all trace of the crowded urgency having evaporated, bicyclists again coasted past what was, I’d say, this man’s ultimate earthly latitude and longitude, as if the coordinates carried no more weight than any others.