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The moon today was one of those big fat off white moons. It was epic
just before dusk, this creamy scoop just above the power lines. This
is the worst time of year in a lot of ways—for the homeless, it is
when the conditions are the most lethal; for the breathing, it is when
the cold bears down, compressing the smoke festooning the bottlenecked traffic to the point where it's normal to cough upon the first cold blast outside. Later in the night the moon had risen, rust-colored.