★★★ The old bleak dazzle again, working with what it could find to work with: finding a smudgy halo behind the head of walking smoker, flaring off the white hair of a man squinting on a cell phone, putting a shine on the seams of the patches in the asphalt. November itself. October had squandered most of its advantages, but its starveling brother was at least putting in the effort. Nevertheless, after dark, there was the crew with the cherry-picker truck wrapping lights around a tree on Broadway, with giant metal snowflakes in the truck bed, hastening to turn the page of the calendar.
Wednesday, November 21st, 2012