This is a photo I took while walking through Prospect Park in Brooklyn on Saturday afternoon. The weather has been phenomenal, and yesterday as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and looked back at the magnificent skyline, towering and magical, I got a little too much sun on my face and am now feeling guilty that I didn't use a higher SPF moisturizer. And that is New York: here you will touch and feel the beating heart of the world, a thumping, raging explosion of light and marvelous texture, but remember! You are small and insignificant and need to suffer endlessly.

You stupid clod.

We have walked and walked until our legs would not carry us another step, and finally, now that we are used to the walking and the running and the dodging and the kicking people in the teeth, it's time to go home. About this I am wistful, but I have many stories to tell. Like how in the middle of Rockefeller Plaza I called the police and threatened a cab driver with the three-inch heel of my boot. And how he took me seriously, abandoned his cab, AND RAN.

I could get the hang of this.