This is such a beautiful morning, y’all should be up and out and about. That’s what I am, especially since I couldn’t sleep much past 4 or 5 or so. The air here in Manhattan is clear (!) and sunny.
Down west 46th street is a large parade wagon, with 4 bulls waiting aimlessly in the street until it is time to pull the wagon. Only a small crowd has gathered, plus the lone motorcycle cop in charge.
The NYT crossword has been filled out — in pencil; to fill it out in ink, even on a Monday, is taunting the word gods.
Room. Pack. Type. Wait.
white pebble 