Treehouses!
This is possibly the world’s worst picture, even by the standards of those captured by a cell phone, but in the trees of that rainy Madison Square Park you can sort of see rectangular, wooden constructions. I had lunch with my friend Mordicai at a diner dating from the Depression era, which was fun—fun to see him, to sit at the bar, and to indulge in greasy spoon cuisine (which, actually, I’m not overly fond of. Except the french fries. Love the french fries!). Afterward, he walked me to the subway, and when I saw Madison Square Park I grabbed his arm. “Mordicai, are those TREEHOUSES?!”
“Yes,” he said. “They are.”
“Can you go up in them?” I joyfully cried.
“No, of course not.”
“Oh,” I replied, instantly crestfallen yet also resigned to common sense. “Yeah, I guess that if people could go up in them someone would fall down, die, and then sue the city.”
Mordicai said that the treehouses are some art installation project, which is SO like New York.
I miss treehouses
Come to think of it, I miss climbing trees.
Sigh.
I wasn’t like “of course not!” It sounds like I’m crushing your sense of wonder! WITH MY BARE HANDS.
Miriam: me too!
Mordicai: I’m pretty sure you did say “of course not,” though not in a wonder-crushing tone, more in an assured, slightly world-weary one. Maybe it was just my impression…