Bold inflexible lines vanish before you into tangerine-tinged horizons. Glints of steel posts—of marble pilasters—of glass rectangles—mirror the dying sun, flinging their scintillating rays onto the concrete under your feet. The reflections flicker—gleam—whisper.
Let the final dregs of warmth gambol past your face. Allow the wind’s invisible wails to dry your stinging eyes. Feel the modulating rush of passing cars.
Lean forward into the cold. Taste it. Embrace it.