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  • There are many bridges that run through and radiate out of Central Park.
    Some are rustic, cut stone, and some have curved brickwork that would make a mason smile.

    On the road around the park we drove under a bridge that formed a tunnel.
    I thought I heard Jim Morrison singing, “Break on through to the other side.”
    Could be the classic rock on the job site echoing through my head.


    The stars were still out this morning when I woke up and went out to the balcony.
    Stars, and a planet, visible in Manhattan bring to me a special joy.
    Outside of this thundering drama of the city there is another layer of reality.

    Outside of the city gates are black holes filled with Singularities that quantum mechanics are trying to reconcile with Einstein’s magic blackboard.
    They have discovered that the Universe is still inexplicable.

    Last night we walked for two miles, from the job site, through the park, and past Columbus circle where throngs of tourists posed for photographs on the base of the statues.
    Pigeons and sparrows moved in for their rewards as the crowds consumed pretzel dogs and crumbs flew.
    A new generation of diabetic and obese urban wildlife is developing and may begin to mutate.

    We went to a Japanese restaurant and ate meats and vegetables roasted on small wood skewers.
    Then we walked another mile and a half past the early evening runners and bikers who were safe now that the sun was trapped behind the Trump Hotel.

    It is told that this greedy man Trump steals the sun every night but lets it go every morning in a complex de-fault swap arrangement.
    But I know that is only rumor.
    I know the sun sleeps in the park at night, under a bridge.
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