Saturday for the purposes of these words was today. So what was Saturday? Deliciously and unseasonably chilly—blue dome clamped down highlighting each nick and shadow in the overhead leaves. And another black man was killed by the police. Bicycling free from house to house, the little palaces adorned with light, friend to socially distanced friend. Another black man was killed by the police. In the evening in our building a hair’s breadth from normalcy as people gather in the back yard to grill. The stars, I’m told, will come out eventually. Another black man was murdered by the police.