Music, to my Ears

The mayoral primary was heating up when I arrived in New York City on a humid June morning. By the time I&rsquo;d reached the apartment, three flights up, I&rsquo;d absorbed the spirit: an hour of lugging my bags down, up, and around had made me sweaty, and the twenty minutes I waited for someone to open the door had caused it to crust. The floor had tracks of New York dirt, the counters were…