It clears. And the sun
throws light on the dust
on the windows, the
constancy of that
mist. To see “if the
weather is with us”,
and it is. It is
amazing how much
a window lets in
or out. Part of a
cross from a tower
on a puddle on
a connecting walk,
white waterpipes that
sidle up sides of
white buildings to tie
tin cornices to
ground, other windows
polished by indi-
rections of reflec-
tions. Quiet. The sky.
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