New York City, October 10, 2016

★★★★★ The line of the hills was sharp and the river was deep blue. Roses bobbed on the bush; the fountain in its plain straight-line concrete tiers glittered. It was not too cold for a New York Ice Cream truck to have parked in the Mister Softee spot outside the Apple Store, nor for a Mister Softee truck to appear behind it, blow the horn, and reclaim the space. Every brick, every water-tank slat, and every still-green leaf stood out. Peeling paint showed on a cornice maybe ten stories overhead. The afternoon shade in the street below the office seemed like twilight, till the eye moved up and flinched at the sun-struck stone against the blue sky above it. A film-crew worker in the back of a truck and the apologetic man begging-ordering pedestrians to stay out of the shot both had their hands thrust into their pockets. The usual limestone pallor of the Empire State Building was awash in warm tones.