New York City, February 18, 2016

★★★★ Fluffed-up pigeons bobbed around the forecourt. The cold was not quite freezing but the brightness was absolute. Everything was sharp and three-dimensional. The deep parts of friezes insisted on their depths; modest dentils cast shadows sideways and down. Some plastic sheeting on a window high across the street sent light trembling and wobbling all over the desk. Snaps on a pedestrian’s coat flashed at a distance. A zipper pull. The dull silvery top of a truck was full of the colors of stone and sky. The skull felt buoyant. The last sun found a water tower up the avenue and held it, warming it from gold to orange-red.