New York City, July 6, 2015

★★ A sparrow was shrieking up against the corrugated metal ceiling of the scaffold for extra volume. The clouds were indistinct but they kept the head off. The smell of feces carrying up Broadway was so persistent it prompted a check of one’s own shoe soles. A motor coach raised a grinding squeal and a fog of asphalt dust. The effort of breathing in the thick air raised a tense pain at the base of the skull. The leaves on the pear trees looked grimy and blasted. By evening the daylight had faded out to gray, and there were chilly gusts of breeze. The sunset clouds were first silver and then a drifting sooty mass, just loose enough to show a few filaments of pink behind it.