New York City, June 13, 2016

★★★★ Jeans were a good idea for the school dropoff but an hour and a half later the sun was making them seem less of a good idea. The clouds could settle on nothing: the sky cycled in and out of high cirrus, empty blue, full gray, and then mess of crossing bright contrails in the lowering light. The sun passed behind rippling rows of clouds where they closed together in the west and went out of sight. It seemed, for a long while, as if that would be that. Only far off in the north under the darkening dull clouds was a narrow opening, where greens and pinks and golds concentrated, faded with distance. The daylight was all but gone when suddenly violent, brilliant magenta spilled up the nearer clouds, catching every undulation in their surface, scrawling shocking unreadable glyphs across the evening, to stop and stare and marvel at.