New York City, June 30, 2016

★★★★ Tilting open the blinds brought in a flow of cool, fresh air. Most ways the gaze turned outside, it met something giving off a blinding flash. It was hard to point the camera at the sky without filling the lens with flare. On the passage out of the shade, a warm ray of sun went straight into one ear. From the N train, the clouds over Manhattan were smoky and backlit. The walk from the station to the river was long but never strenuous. A breeze stirred on the way under the great concrete supports of the elevated railroad, and the light shone through the seed heads of the grass. People stood for the national anthem facing into the blinding west; if there was a flag it was lost in the glare. The river was flowing out at a furious pace, silver and choppy, in front of the little pink sunset. The night wind from the south steadily carried away the smoke as fast as the fireworks could make it.