Sunset in Downtown Detroit. Traffic lights blur into soft dots of red. Wind wraps its self around the spire of the Methodist church, all but whistles down Michigan Avenue. The stocky office blocks and chunky, muscular buildings of the USA's North East were built to last in a climate of bitter winds and cruel cold. Almost as soon as I arrived in Detroit, even though the sun was shining, I felt the pelt of hailstones. And yet, refreshing after the sweltering heatwave of California, I like this weather. It is bracing. It gets me moving. It reminds me of home. Hands stuffed into pockets, I push down Shelby Street, shuffle down the sidewalks with no particular destination. The wind picks up. On Washington Boulevard, the street lights melt into a twilight turning purple. The Ford Building rises like a column of snow. I cross a tasteful square, pass a bunch of old men sitting on a bench playing jolly music. A huge block of apartments stands above us, and from half way up a young man gaz...
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