New York City, December 2, 2015

★★ Morning was enervatingly dark. The paving bricks had a film of water on them, but there was not enough rain to justify having a fight over the umbrella or the waterproof jacket. There was, for a moment, sun shining — somewhere else but not a distant somewhere, just further along 17th Street. Whatever opening it had found went away. By naptime the far bank of the river was nearly lost in fog the color of skim milk. The library had more people sleeping in it than usual, and more garbage-bagged or otherwise bundled possessions. The black of early night on the avenue was overlaid on every surface with the gold and ruby shine of streetlights and brake lights.