It’s not so much fog as a cloud that’s lost it’s ambition, and all the streetlights and stoplights are simultaneously hazed and brightened, refracted into sharp electric halos that make me squint.
Two men walking down the sidewalk come upon a puddle. One steps around it, the other detours up on to the steps of the brownstone, effectively walking over it. Neither breaks stride, both seem perfectly content with their own way of handling the problem, neither seem to be perturbed by the way the other dealt with it.
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