I can't even bear to take a photo of the almost nothing that's left after last week's fire. i know a church is not its home, anymore than the book is its words, but it's hard to see it open to the sky. That's a hard-luck block. I happened to be out very early the day of the fire, which we could smell from our apartment. Fire trucks everywhere. A guy in a cherrypicker (is that what it's called?) aiming a gigantic hose right into the church. I remember when St Mark's steeple burned in the late 70s. The only thing that might make me feel OK about 2020 is if it really does snow—I mean a LOT—this week....
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