New York City, August 15, 2013

★★★★★ The toddler and the clear blue sky each made the case for getting outside at once — onto the third-floor play deck, up to the fourth floor deck for grownups, and then down and out the front to watch cement trucks pouring concrete into the boom pump. Little white clouds arrived, a tasteful assortment. The tourists were on the hoof, unharried by temperature: a couple with a thumb-splayed guidebook decelerated in mid-block and mid-sidewalk; a herd filled an entire corner. So what? Frustration evaporated quickly in the atmosphere. Beer was on ice on the office roof; up above was a just-gibbous moon, with a small plane and a big jet passing near it, and pink-gray clouds and white cirrus, everything at its own altitude or distance. The ugly gray apartment buildings caught amber light. The Empire State Building was shimmering. A contrail stretched fat and vivid white. A thin pink cotton-candy haze appeared over the moon, then turned to silver streaks as the sky darkened. The moon made its way out of the east and well into the west, and the people stayed where they were.