New York City, November 4, 2012

★★★★ Fine-looking, what there was of it. The early arrival of a bright morning did not make up for how quickly the brightness would pass. When did the clock change stop being a gift of rest and become a case of sedentary jet lag? (A: Fall of 1989.) Already, at what was nominally the back end of midday, the sun was lowering in earnest. Downtown-facing pedestrians stomped right into it, hurrying through the cold in blind straight lines, unable to account for the backlit figures coming the other way—who in turn could not quite grasp that these fully illuminated figures could be so unseeing. Vectors of resentment glanced off each other. A newly bought mitten was lost for half an hour, then recovered from the threshold of the elevator lobby. A tiny dog with thin, pale fur stood hunched and trembling at the end of its leash, despite its polyester-fleece dog vest.