New York City, August 12, 2015

★★★★★ Sharp light and fresh air came in. The sun was strong enough to be hot; the sidewalk lit faces from below. Facades were neatly defined, and the bricks behind the facades showed all their gradations of color. The clouds seemed to speed up a little when a gaze was fixed on them. The copper dome over luxury condominiums flared or blackened to amplify the passing shadows. Breeze gently flipped the ends of the flags of the United States and H & M. The only flaw with the plan to skip the subway and walk twenty-two blocks was an immense and sticky dog turd at the 23rd Street crossing. Nine, ten years ago this had been the regular walk, Flatiron to Penn Station. The blocks of wholesale goods, with mango vendors on the sidewalk, were hotter than everywhere else. A demolition-waste truck spread dust across Broadway. There were people out on 32nd Street in benches, all along the block, in what was now a traffic-calming lane.