Central Park

Pin It I walk.

The park muffles the sounds of the traffic around me. I catch a whiff of something honeysuckleish; it brings back nice thoughts. I venture off onto the pathways where I see nobody else; the walkway is dappled in shadow as the katydids drone from the trees around me. Orange butterflies flit about as the squirrels fearlessly move close to see if I will offer them something—I do not.

I move deeper, farther into this Narnianish landscape with no idea where I am headed.

The park beckons to me.

As I explore, I recognize familiar landmarks: I soon encounter Bow Bridge, a memorable landmark from so many movies I’ve seen before, Bethesda Fountain, Sheep’s Meadow, Strawberry Fields, and the “Imagine” mosaic, laid in the memory of John Lennon.








Brilliant.

It isn’t long before I find myself spilling from the park into the street, and my feet are soon pounding the pavement. I walk the busy parkways and sidewalks. Horns honk—despite the signs warning of the $350 fines for doing so. Under my feet, the subway pass, shaking the ground as they rumble past. The air is thick and muggy, reminding me of Missouri. I’m sorely tempted to fish my headphones from my backpack but quickly change my mind; I don’t want to miss out on the cacophony of sound around me—I don’t want to ruin the experience.

I am in New York.