Oh yeah, fergot.
Today, going up the Taconic, northbound, eyes left, Croton-on-Hudson or thereabouts, offered me the most perfect, pristine and heart-wrenching vew of the southbound bridge reflected in the water at near-sunset, a structure from Roman times, a feat of arced bricks that made me want a camera more at that moment than in almost any other, just so that I could show what I haven't even the beginning of words for.

And, going southbound across that very same bridge an hour later: the Hudson, in gold.

I occasionally find myself forced to not just believe in God, but to agree with him.