earlyseptembermorninginofordstreet.thesmellofcharreusthangsonwhatshouldbecrystalpureair.sun,justup,floodstheoncemoreiocentsky,strikessilverballoonsandtheintactbuildinops.thewholelenhofofordstreet,westtoeast,isempty,lookspolishedlikeballroom,glitterswithsmashedglass.downthedistances,naturalmistsofmorningarebrownwiththelastomoke.fumesstillefromtheshellofashop.atthisisnowtheenormousthing–itappearstoa...