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New York, Act 2, Scene 3

February 24, 2013

The five of us walk slowly to Central Park South, a few blocks away. A weak sun glitters on white cumulous clouds. Bare braches shiver against the pale blue sky, and bushy tailed squirrels scamper up and down the naked trees. Horse drawn carriages wait for tourists. I watch an elderly couple ascend into a carriage’s depths. The driver wraps them in blankets and takes off, clippity-clop through the park. Perhaps they are celebrating a silver wedding anniversary, or having an illicit affair. Ah romance!

Kiosks smell of roasting chestnuts, a warm bitter scent. We are offered scarves, mittens, handbags and caps. John buys a black cap with NYC in scarlet letters. His brown fedora does not cover his ears… but we know he just loves hats.

Kevin claims he needs ear plugs for his performance. He is sitting too near the percussion instruments tonight. On his I-phone Tim locates a hardware store several blocks in another direction, and they take off to find it while we continue our walk on 5th Avenue, past the Trump Building and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, draped in scaffolding, to Rockefeller Plaza where Atlas holds a hollow universe on his shoulders.  A Lego store contains millions of Legos, imaginatively constructed into every shape, known and imagined, where children of every age and size run from one display to the next, unmindful that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

Warmed, we watch the skaters gracefully circling the ice-rink below, and then continue walking.

“Isn’t the New York Public Library further down on 5th Avenue?” I ask Beth. “I’d love to see the lions.”

“It’s about ten blocks down. Think you can walk that far?”

” Probably. Actually, I’ve never been inside it.”

“Nor have I. Let’s go.”

to be contd.

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