To the west, drupes of nimbostratus clouds swelled over the brackish harbor waters, while in the east wisps of vaporless white clouds plumed the horizon like a swathe of cotton laid by a gentle hand. A soft golden sheen glazed the market street, sunlight arced through clean glass windows and along hand trowled plaster walls, creating stark shadowlines of orange, blue, and purple. Painters called this the magic moment, when everything was bathed in a golden sheen. See more