Last night a deep red line hung low near the horizon. It was as if the heat of the earth had seared the edges of the sky. Heat and humidity had been building all day until dusk, when the sky was finally forced to open, and moisture rained down, but only for a few minutes.
Now is the time of year when I love New York most - the people who can leave town do, families of Europeans wander around midtown holding maps, staring up at buildings, wide-eyed like children. The temperature drops only slightly after the sun slips beneath the horizon, but the black, city streets continue to hold the heat through to the next morning.
Tomorrow I fly to San Antonio. I've never been to Texas. I'll be joining a huge gathering of people on a spiritual journey. I'm glad the event is being held somewhere that's hot.
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