New York City, November 3, 2015

★ Down around the edges of the fine blue dome a brown grime was lurking. Music came in so clearly and loudly it was as if windows were already open; when the window was opened, the sound was no easier to pinpoint. The trees down below were getting closer to full color, but the boots were still up on a shelf, the foot socks were still on. The warmth was enchanting, enchanting as a house made of cake and sugar in the forest, enchanting as a palace filled with luxuries with one locked upper room. A double-decker tour bus rolled by, its entire side covered by an ad for the Times Square branch of a tropical party bar chain. The haze was a cataract over the view down Broadway. The sun was so low and bright it made the eye muscles cramp, so radiantly warm even the light jacket had to be shed. And nonetheless the early dark came. The dark came when the dark would.