New York City, July 13, 2015

★★★ Extra humidity rose from the hosed-down sidewalk. A white moped sped along to cut off an otherwise clear jaywalking experience. The coffee kicked in as the sky opened into relative expansiveness where Broadway hit Columbus Circle, and the voice of Mahalia Jackson sang “Great Gettin’ Up Morning” in the skull. A tall figure on rollerblades roared by on the sidewalk, less deftly than something of that speed ought to have, cutting a palpable wake. At the office, on the fire escape, there was cool air for the ankles and enough battery to stay out there in the shade. The sun was hot and direct; the eight-year-old’s hand chilly as he came out of the air conditioned day camp. The water in the fountain by the forecourt was algal green, with a foam on it. The smell of burning charcoal carried on the evening air.