The sky breathtakingly blue and gray and ochrous. You think, closing the sky at Hudson Yards will be a sad thing, shutting off light, shutting off beauty.
Later, in the meadows, just east of Harrison, the coach lights go out. The car is dim, and the wondrousness of the light outside enters exaggerated, pronounced, present. You're heading west to Summit, your home. And I suddenly feel again, this is temporary, I won't always be here. This will look the same -- the sky -- without me. The rear, the background is illuminated. The foreground, dark.
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