New York City, February 25, 2015

★★★ The sky and air were crystalline to the north, hazy southward into the sun. If the winter was unceasing it was also for the moment out of tricks: standard cold, standard breeze, standard ambient frozen matter. Beside the bodega flowers, under the ever-higher angle of the light, one could pretend to catch an intimation of spring. Later in the day, high wispy clouds curled so extravagantly they came out undulating. The building tops were in loveliness; the sidewalks were appalling with melt-freed soggy garbage. The cigarette butts alone were a time-lapse allegory of misery. Up the stairs from the subway, uptown, a bright print dress and high-cuffed pants stood in a department-store window.