I saw musical instruments.
Eventually these instruments were played, but I was too tired to get up from the bench, & take photographs.
The trees & grass were a calm reprieve, from all the city chaos, & noise, I had been embedded in.
I don't know why I expected the park to be a small, city park. Before seeing it, I had these ideas imagined in my mind, from books & stories. I passed statues I thought I would never miss. I don't know what I was expecting, like some big sign saying, Here it is. Well that must've been a fantasy.
Central Park felt like a sanctuary. I would have liked to spend more time there. I was longing for peace. I missed the quiet. I missed the sky.
I wanted to see Strawberry Fields, but it was too far away, from where we were. We kept asking people, who told us it was this way, but we never seemed to arrive. It felt like we had been walking nonstop. Our legs were sore, our stomachs were empty.
We saw dancing. My friend got up close to the fashion shoot. I was sitting down, on the cement ledge, talking to a New Yorker about his city. I don't think I ever asked his name. He told me they had to get permits to dance. They probably had to get permits for the fashion shoot. They had to get permits for everything, at the park. He told me about the concerts there at Central Park. He asked me where we were from, how long we were there, & what had we seen, & done.
I asked him what Strawberry Fields was exactly? I mean, was it just the mark on the ground, with the word "Imagine," and flowers? I realized I was never gonna find it. I realized this image, I'd built in my mind. The hero musician, I've loved since 9th grade, he wasn't really there, was he? I called my husband crying. He told me it was all going to be okay.
We saw a union strike. That man in the flowered pants is on stilts.
I can still hear them chanting, "Boycott the Boathouse," with their New York accents. I tried to imitate a New York accent, throughout our trip, with my friend, who thought I was ridiculous.
My friend said she wanted to take a pedicab. I didn't want to, because I thought that it was mean to the person, who would have to pull the weight of both of us.
This is Zosef. I'm probably spelling his name wrong. I said, I don't want it to hurt you. He said, "Don't worry. I'm working." I liked Zosef. Meeting him, was one of my favorite things in NYC.
He had those yellow, union balloons, tied to his pedicab. He told us he was from Mali, of course I wanted to know. He explained it was in West Africa. Then he asked if we heard of Timbuktu? Yes! :)
He said that someday he wanted to go to Dallas, Texas. I smiled, & laughed. Thinking, why would you ever want to go there?