New York City, April 1, 2013

★★ The early sun was brightish but on a dimmer, and a chillier-than-expected breeze pushed up the avenue. Over the mouth of the subway exit, the sky was white and hard to look at; the spires of downtown, City Hall and the Gehry luxury tower and the rest, shaded away in the enchanted glow of their various fairytales. Flecks of light glittered on the asphalt-caked scoop of a backhoe parked expectantly at the curb. By late afternoon, the sky was not so much raining as it was dripping. Water crept up to darken the hems of a woman’s flowing, poppy-colored pants. Up in the 60s, the dimmer was turning the other way, clearing and brightening ahead of sundown. A draft came in under the apartment door, where the uncooperative weatherstripping had peeled loose yet again.