On a Tuesday in August, I revisited Th Chrlsn, a condo under development that I'd been eyeing for a while. (On Halloween I'd climbed its sister building and watched amateur fireworks pop and fizzle all around me, small and mute with distance.) That day the fencing was down, and there was a sign on the lobby doors, apparently for tradespersons, saying that the lobby would be closed for tile laying from 6:00 p.m. on that day's date to sometime on tomorrow's. I looked at my watch. It was 5:45.

The lobby was locked but the gate to the underground parking was up. As I was descending the ramp, some guy crossed my path on his way to his vehicle. I was forced to follow him for a while to get to the elevators -- one of which, hung with movers' drapes, proved operable. I rode it to some floor, I cannot now recall which one, but most likely a couple from the top, from where I climbed a stairwell the rest of the way.

Down at street level it had been dusk; up here it was full day.

Why, there's my old friend, Vncvr Hs!