Lazy waves on the water in the fountain, not appearing to be moving forward so much as forward and back, like the surface of a banged-up metal tray which can be bent first one direction and then the other.
Fighter planes passing overhead. They rend the air with sound. The clouds above them military, gunmetal gray.
The tower, the tallest of its kind, all bricks and peeling white paint. The street arcing around it, the girl right beneath, craning her neck to take it in.
A man waving flyers in the road, coming to the car window: "Don't you have a dollar for Jesus?" A woman shouting in her microphone in the parking lot: "My children hated me!"