★★★★ A few windows, off in New Jersey, caught the fiery rising sun; a few washes of pink touched the clouds; a few fissures of pale blue shone between. Little touches. The baby had shaken off his share of everyone's seasonal cough well enough to tear his albuterol rig apart and scatter the pieces across three rooms. Outside was cold and bright, with not enough wind to dispel the griddle smell around the coffee cart. Attractive thin, high clouds gave way to equally attractive lower, fluffier ones. The long shadows of fire escapes fell across the faces of the buildings on Lafayette Street. Late light again lanced its way into the dark office. By night time, the breeze was sufficient to knock down a raised coat hood. Wearing a hat would have been smarter.
Thursday, November 29th, 2012
37 Polly Asks: New York Magazine Wants Me to Write Ask Polly For Them. Should I Tell Them to Piss Off?