★★★★ The heat was getting into the apartment again, till the air conditioner had to come back on. Haze laid soft effects over the morning, augmented on Prince Street by jackhammer dust, raised by a man in working in civvies with no earplugs or goggles. By afternoon, the golden air had faded out to gray and the heat subsided. Had the haze vanished, or was it that there was no more sun for it to scatter? By six, outside the Chelsea Piers, the sky was a thick, orange-tinged gray. Drops fell, and vague notions of the High Line surrendered to the specific opportunity of a getaway taxi. The west was bright, despite the darkness overhead. Out on the downtown streets, the drops stayed sparse—bits of a flattened mouse corpse on the Grand Street sidewalk stayed dry—but they would not go away. Then, finally, direct sun hit the buildings, from their third stories on up. Civic Fame shone golden from the top of the Municipal Building, and the Gehry tower above and beyond shone its usual silver, or platinum. A rainbow—sharp and brilliant—arched over Canal Street, appearing to descend somewhere near where dinner should be. It stayed, sharply banded, minute after minute. Not three in 20 people stopped and looked up. The drops stopped, the rainbow slowly faded, and the cloud cover came apart. A lilac rag of cloud stayed on in the east, to veil the near-round rising white moon.
Tuesday, August 20th, 2013