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  • There are different paths to walk through Central Park offering varied scenery.
    Take the high road and you walk around the reservoir and perhaps see an egret.
    Take the low path and you walk through the Pinetum with multiple species of conifers.
    In the fall the area is littered with pinecones of all shapes and sizes.

    Pass under a bridge and there might be someone playing a saxophone.
    The curved brickwork provides excellent acoustics.

    Pass under a bridge and you might find yourself in a different life.
    The life where you took the other path on the 4th day of the 7th month and so everything changed.

    Pass under the bridge and you might emerge in another season, leaving the heat of July for a January morning.

    Each day, every bridge is another possibility.

    I went under one bridge once and was chased by a tiger.
    Another time I passed through and almost became a statue but I managed to break free as the mortar set up and I made it back to the bridge in time.
    I have been an explorer on an ocean voyage, nine generations ago, seeking the new world.
    I emerged once and lived on the top floor of the tallest building where my shoe closet was the size of my former home, and chandeliers adorned my bathroom.
    There was always something new, and I almost forgot my other existence for a while.

    But, now, through this particular passage I find myself every day returning to the same place, where my suitcase resides.
    There is certainty and planning for tomorrow, seeing friends tonight, schedule for next week and our crew.
    A date is set for completion and travel.

    Will I go through the bridge one final time just to make certain I will arrive as planned?

    I am amazed at the persistence of this reality.
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