New York City, December 22, 2014

★ “I can’t see the clouds,” the three-year-old said, looking up from breakfast and out at the undifferentiated gray. “They’re mixed up in the sky.” A dullness, thinner than a fog, lay over everything. A pigeon, steaming breath, sidewalk concrete, a shineless food cart — all were the same color. So was the light, while it lasted at all. A blowing, soaking mist fell on the commute in the dark.