We sat on a bench next to the now closed road near the entrance to the park by Circle. Joggers, runners, bicyclists, walkers, bladers, tourists, dogwalkers, all rushed by. I just wanted to take really slow pictures.
There was a lady a few benches down, her nurse had brought her out, so she could enjoy her time in the park. The nurse read the paper and the old lady looked at the people going past us. I could see through the camera that her glasses made the park look very different. She also had a hearing aid. Her experience of the situation must have been such a completely different one than mine. Well, it always is, of course. Each one of us experiences a completely different park. We might agree on certain describable details, but most of what we see and how we see it is very personal and very unique and translated into our own internal visual language. I observed the lady for a while. She hardly moved and yet I knew that she was probably enjoying this moment more than some of the quick movers around us. She was probably traveling through her memories of the park, she was seeing things we know nothing of. She might also have been there, just there, aware of the particular moment as it took place in front of her.
The pigeon was right behind us. It was a patch of gras not used by visitors. There were masses of people on the Sheeps Meadow, but nobody behind the benches just yards from the marked recreational location. There was loud music on the Sheeps Meadow, it was very quiet behind us. The pigeon waited in the sun. Other pigeons came to visit, walked by. This one pigeon seemed to enjoy a quiet and calm time in the sun. It must have been warm.

The picture in the center was taken later, more uptown, maybe around 86th street. in Manhattan can be so magical and so diverted by the buildings, newly composed. The can be harsh sometimes. It can be like a rush sometimes. But there are moments when it is just a quiet, slow motion . I think I love New York.