New York City, December 15, 2016

★★★★★ More than once in the night the wind slammed against the building hard enough to break into sleep, with a sound like torrential rain. Morning showed up dry as the night had really been, with bright pink light shining on things and a crisp white moon, just off full, standing in the sky. The cold was hard and pure and sensational, something to talk about with marvel. Being indoors with all the day’s requisite layers and outerwear was too much to bear, but it was the indoors that came off the worse for that. The wind could squeeze tears from the eyes, yet it was not dealing out frostbite; in midday it was still possible, on a shortish walk, to hold back the gloves and the hat for when they would truly be needed. That moment came as soon as the sun had lost contact with the streets. A leaf scraped along brickwork like claws running on a hard floor. Strings of lights shone sharply in the clarified night air.