New York City, May 30, 2016

★★★ The droplets on the windows became dry spots of grime as the sun very slowly strengthened. The remaining clouds cut the sun’s intensity, and the humidity of the air in the streets was cooling. Whatever threat of rain there was, it was a nonspecific one; through the gaps in the thick compound leaves of the street trees were patches of dark gray and of clear blue. Inside the Park it was muggier, the vegetation still soaked from the overnight rain, the shade preventing it from burning off. The air felt as spongy as the rubberized playground underfoot. The blue was lost again, and the sun became a white scribble behind the returning clouds. On its descent, it assumed the character of something round, behind a smoky layer of lower clouds, and for a while it recovered the power to cast shadows. The roof deck on the tower across the way stayed full of people all day. At cleanup time, the stray pieces of wooden train track on the air conditioner vent were damp to the touch. A thin band of pink on the northwestern horizon was the only visible sunset.