Houses of many colors press shoulder to shoulder. I smell roses, see the setting sunlight turn houses down the valley of a cross street all gold. And even though the city is densely inhabited by buildings, cars, dogs on leashes and people, there comes a sense of wilderness. The planted flowers and shrubs become bigger than their usual dimensions, the sidewalks are paths created by the tread of the people, the bus no less natural a phenomenon than the jay swooping past, the summer city a vibrating jungle.