Union Square Park

It's hard to know how long it's going to take to get anywhere in New York City, so you just start out an hour ahead of time and take a book. Any commute is going to be a complex mix of errand-running, trains (which will appear at your feet within 10 to 20 minutes, depending on the time of day/night), and the last few blocks walking (or walking around in circles, if you aren't quite sure where you're going).

So, I ended up in the Union Square park yesterday for an hour before work, reading Exit Ghost by Philip Roth beside a guy wearing a super-hero-y hood with holes for the eyes and mouth, wearing a Sharpie-marked cardboard sign declaring the day's top news stories. A student-type crouched down in front of him and, I could barely overhear, offered him the last cupcake in a plastic box he was holding. "No, no," said the Super-type. "I don't touch that kind of stuff."

The main part of the park lay across the street, and I watched a lanky man doing distintive kung-fu movements; with purpose, but also with such a casual playfulness, I thougth it might be Capoieta. (I was peeking over the top of my book.) But no, it was kung-fu, with the similtaneously moving hands/feet, blocks/strikes, and "upright" balance that prevents over-committing, provides the freedom to change direction/movements quickly, etc. Just stuff you know is called "Monkey combs his hair," and "Crane nips a dragonfly."

It was a few hours after lunch, but the park teemed with people. A large, flat configuration of light concrete, puddled with iron-ringed patches of grass and trees. It was a little cooler, yesterday, and the sun seemed bright but gentler. The concrete gave the impression of light reflecting upward, like a low, bright band into the pedestrian level, like the light-casting of a swimming pool or beach sand. All these bobbing heads, enjoying Union Square, close together and unconcerned, eating sandwiches and talking on iPhones.