From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The slush is turning to black ice under the flickering streetlamps, and I can barely see through the frozen sleet without those new manual windshield wipers everyone is whispering about. I spent a whole nickel on a loaf of bread today—prices are rising at a bally frantic pace—leaving me with just enough for a small box of those Binney & Smith wax crayons to keep the children quiet. It would be truly capital to simply fly away from it all in that motorized Wright Flyer contraption I read about, but for now, I am stuck watching the shadows of long wool coats haunt the fog. The news is nothing but tension and talk of "topics of the week," and honestly, the uncertainty of this new century makes my skin crawl.