I'm traveling with my brother Joe in a foreign country. The people around are like Mexicans, but the land is green and lush. We're riding a bus, and just when we get up to disembark, I feel my back pocket and notice that my wallet is missing. I look around quickly, and find it on the floor by my feet. I think perhaps it is unwise to keep it in my back pocket, so I put it in a leg pocket in my cargo-style shorts.

But while I am messing around with that, Joe got off the bus thinking I was right behind, and the bus has taken off again. The bus continues for a several miles without stopping, along a long road on a green-treed hillside, and then turns left to descend the hill as if deeper into the city. The bus has a pull-string along the top of the windows, to request a stop, but for some reason I don't pull it. The bus finally comes to a stop outside a large museum, and I take my pack and head back up the hill toward the main road, thinking that I will walk along it and hopefully run into Joe.

My path of travel takes me through some cavelike structures where people live, in a somewhat cramped but clean and comfortable lifestyle. I come to the quarters of three pretty girls, who are very generous and invite me to stay for dinner. I tell them that I must move on and locate my brother, although I will certainly return after I find him. I'm not sure I can find the place again.