New York City: 09.19.16
Going uptown through the East Village was like walking through hair gel. Not yours, specifically, but that of the Collective Commuter. Whoever did decide to wear product on top of their head probably regretted it, knowing no redoubt from the fine, but dense membrane of rain everywhere. The humidity was drawing the sky close like a fleece blanket and by the afternoon certain skyscrapers were already partially-enveloped. Eventually, with the fog still there, dusk gave the surrounds a foreboding pink hue. An interesting color, that couldn’t help but remind one of bad Instagram filter editing. Turns out the “Is it hot? Is it cold?” game we’re playing with ourselves, carrying light coats everywhere, was redundant as four fire trucks pulled up to a nearby building. Onlooking, it already seemed warmer though a cold sweat was developing more locally. Recounting the story later — around the corner, really — under the restaurant’s UV halo, it was temperate, otherworldly.