Watching from a small window an orange sunset behind the Manhattan skyline, I talk for the first time to the girl who has been sitting next to me for the past seven and a half hours. She is small with long dark hair and has spent much of the flight curled up on her seat, occasionally laughing out loud to something she was watching on the entertainment system. We agree that it is quiet a sight.
She is a New Yorker returning home after a year studying economics in London. She was brought up in Long Island. She is Jewish. In London she was living in Bloomsbury.
We talk about the Tower of London, traffic diversion and rain. She is happy to offer me a middle name. Her aunt was called Helen but, as a middle name, it was already taken by her cousin so her mother decided to add an 'e'.
We disembark the plane to our separate immigration queues.
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