★★ The blurry sunshine snapped into sharp focus in late morning. The air in the West 60s was damp and vegetal-smelling, like a wet forest in July. “We never get fall, we never get spring anymore,” a woman said on her way out of the coffee shop. The dull tan bricks of the forecourt were blinding white. Clouds were piled up with the opacity of shaving cream. A breeze managed to put the heavy air in motion.