Is yours a bricked city?

I'm to dine with an ex-pert in building mater-ials tomorrow. We will not literally be in Richmond, but the great furnace on the James has seemed to turn its brick ovens toward the Piedmont in recent days, and opened all the doors. The question of the hour, then, is, What do we do for an appetite?

Have we not found it expedient - those of us who prefer not to dine under refrigeration, that is - to think in mono-chrome under conditions where a plain imbalance in colour temperatures works nothing less than a metabolic disorientation? One's obligation, after all, is to be hungry.