New York City, November 10, 2014

★★★★ The morning was humid enough to amplify the odors of dog piss and breakfast cart, in their respective places. The sun, bright but low but bright, skimmed and bounced. It lit the sides of the bars of the subway grate till they matched the pale solidity of the concrete sidewalk beside them. Buildings projected their windows-reflections onto the faces of other building: west faces, north faces, and east faces as the day went on. The air was just cool, the clear sky of untellable depth. Pink washed the sky downriver, and the fat from the pork chop juices congealed on the chilly rim of the bowl.