The sunlight on the East River sparkled this morning as I looked back upon it through the undressing arms of the park trees from my window on the train. That particular play between what's left and what's always been making its unforeseen predictable impact. One rarely has the angle to see that kind of shimmer at any other time of year. Today then, in its way, was the annual flowering of that light.
The sunlight on the East River sparkled this morning as I looked back upon it through the undressing arms of the park trees from my window on the train. That particular play between what's left and what's always been making its unforeseen predictable impact. One rarely has the angle to see that kind of shimmer at any other time of year. Today then, in its way, was the annual flowering of that light.
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