New York Diaries II

Overheard at the entrance of Central Park yesterday afternoon:

Daughter: I am confused.

Mother: I'm determined not to judge the art. Just experience it.

Daughter: I don't get it.

Mother: There are a lot of people here, aren't there? People are walking through The Gates like a procession, going slowly. Maybe it would be better if you turned in circles when you walked through.

Daughter: I don't get it. What's the big deal?

Mother: Maybe you really need to be high to fully appreciate these "happenings". That's why they worked in the 60's. Everybody dropped acid and the art transcended the earth where it was placed. It gave you a glimpse of the intransitory nature of reality.

Daughter: I'm hungry.

Mother: The gates aren't saffron-colored. They're orange.

Daughter: It's fucking cold. But why is cold weather more tolerable in New York City than in the midwest?

Mother: You want to get something to eat? Let's get a drink! We can see the other 22.9 miles tomorrow.

Daughter: You've seen one gate, you've seen them all.