Believe it or not, in four summers we’d never previously met in Union Square Park. Why not? No idea. But we hadn’t, so that’s where we went, bringing books with us that ranged from Naomi Novik’s upcoming UPROOTED to Michael Lewis’s Wall Street expose, FLASH BOYS. (No, we didn’t mistake Lewis’ title for an imperative…)
She seemed entertained by the particular set of passers-by who stopped to say hello, ranging from a painter who’d previously happened upon us in Bryant Park to a fire alarm system technician on his lunch break to this fellow…
…who announced that he’d just taken an Adderall, didn’t know whether we were a hallucination or not, and that he’d recently been named “the illest homeless man in New York City.” Hm.
He also called one of us “a genetic miracle.” Adderall makes you say the sweetest things.
The sun had a strong showing, almost making it feel like summer again. Its days are numbered and we know it, but while there’s life in it yet, we’ll soak up every ray.
By afternoon’s end we were still full of pep and yearning, so after making like amazons…
…and 1950s housewives…
…we took a topless stroll out of the park, culminating in a stop at a Mr. Softee ice cream truck.
Did that finally cool our fires? For a time. But there’s never enough Mr. Softee to quench us for long.
More! we call. More! And again: More!