the top of the empire state building is hidden in clouds today.

forty six degrees and a spitting, misting kind of rain that’s common for a northeast fall – often i wish for a perfect fall day. i remember one once when i was about fourteen, the air had the perfect bite, wind was flapping everything about. it was the temperature where you never get too hot in your sweatshirt. the sky though, the sky was rolling with clouds of varied grays. that was the very best part.

now, i am more inclined to think of a perfect fall day as cloudless, sun piercing bright, but the same bite in the air. that bite brings me alive, i think. i relish it all winter, stepping outside and forcing my lungs awake. that air tells me to live.

forty six degrees, as i mentioned, and i’m wearing a thin cardigan and a scarf. i run hot, these days. i’m always running one way or the othe. so I run hot, but i’m terrifically uncomfortable when i’m overheating, and as a result, i habitually underdress. i would much rather shiver than feel that pulse from inside your chest when you’ve warmed up too much. it’s unavoidable, when you’ve got to wear wool to protect yourself from the freezing air and then you find yourself in underground tunnels for travel, people smashed all together. but i avoid it where i can.

i don’t have a real end to this story, except to say that this is what new york fall has become, that i’m always a little too hot, and that i still wish for the most exemplary day any season has to offer.