Tomorrow, the equinox. But today, we’re balanced on the cusp of fall, the husk of summer.

This morning, doors throughout Madrid were propped ajar to invite in the cooler weather. Porteros swabbed down sidewalks; as I walked past, I peeked into the lobbies of the apartment buildings. They’re neither public or private, not here nor there, but every single one of them sports a chandelier and a plant. In the fin de siecle buildings, the chandeliers hang like regal jewelwork, in the frumpy ones, the chandelier and plant both are plastic.

The smell of coffee issued from the open door of a cafe; I heard the clink of a cup set down on the metal counter that ran the length of the interior. Inside another, a serve idled, above his head, jamones hung in a wreath.

I passed four churches, all with their doors flung open: ten or so minutes into 9:00 mass. A little elderly man shuffled into one, his too-big black suit the sort a character from a Graham Greene novel would wear. I wasn’t quick enough to sneak a photo with my phone.

The equinox; a good walk; the world in momentary balance.