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Sparks bloom in the hazy sky, booms peppering the city as a dense fog of smoke drifts over the waterfront. I step over littered green and blue and red cardboard tubes, soggy in gutter puddles, mixed in with old newspaper and a coffee cup with someone’s name swirled along the side in bloated, waterlogged sharpie. I wish I could capture this city, preserve it in a moment of stillness between the thunder and the cheers. Change is a magic trick, a shimmering illusion. I never notice it from far away, only all at once when I manage to get up close.