UnderWoman

Never has a trip north through the park been so well narrated through the senses.

They DO gather moss…and pine needles and cones.

They kneel in a knoll.

UnderWoman shows Brian the sexiest thing she knows:

Nestled between the breasts of the Romeo and Juliet sculpture at Delacorte Theater, robins had built their nest last Spring.

It was an odd thing, because the nest was at eye level for most New Yorkers.

There had been intense debate about whether to remove or protect it.

In the end, protection prevailed. And many stood guard until the babies fledged and the nest could be moved to higher ground.

“THIS is my home town,” UnderWoman gestures to the park and to the city at large.

She references a recent Smithsonian article that presents New Yorkers as a highly involved species of people — people pre-selected for higher energy and ambition.

She quotes Helen Keller: “Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in a shadowy world. When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City. Always I return home weary but I have the comforting certainty that mankind is real flesh and I myself am not a dream.”

And she recites from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poem, Recuerdo (Memory):

“We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.“

Brian closes his eyes….