Walking down an avenue on this indecipherably warm New York day, a waft of wetness (scent of the quality of having-just-rained) sweeps by. The faint smell of cooking and grass-through-melting-snow reminds me of Seoul and Boston simultaneously -- it's as if the wetness of buildings and asphalt is some magical, sticky substance that binds all of my cities together and collapses them into a single location...