She marveled at the breathlessness of the planet, that the earth could
suck in heat all summer and then let it escape in the steady sigh of autumn. She had risen on the chest of the continent, and now she was pining for cool weather like a forest meeting up with a subdivision, which is to say that, like breath, her convictions were slowly slipping away. She wanted it to be cool outside. She wanted to put on more clothing when for months she had wanted to wear none. She thought: the pedestrians have become wobbly, looking at their watches and mumbling and shaking their heads. In the old neighborhoods, the men have become stuck to their benches outside of the cafes and their backs make circles of sweat, leaning against the window.