Gusts.

There is something mournful about windy wintery days. Even the ones with brilliant sunshine. I was downtown with Chris and we were being gusted about in one of those New York city moments where the avenues become tunnels of wind and you get assaulted at various intersections by blasts. We looked over to the west and spied the new Whitney under construction and these white tarps acting out the invisible force of the currents of air and despite the physical pain of remaining in the cold/wind, we ventured. Really beautiful. And I am ready for spring.