Outside is cool. I am sitting in the shadows but for my right foot which is resting in a broad patch of sunlight slowly creeping its way along the concrete to me. Its touch is a caress, that is it is soft and warm, slight, comforting. My back is to the building, and in front of me is an array of picnic tables where people are sitting—whole families, couples with dogs, single dudes drinking their coffees and eating their bagel sandwiches. The two dogs once squirming like antsy children are now sitting still as statues. Rather regal. They look like they could be carvings—sculptures in sandstone or granite at the ends of enormous ledges bounding long flights of stairs leading up to or away from some grand palace. The sky is a satiny blue with the airy fragrance of hazy white clouds. There is still some green in the trees mixed in with the reds, browns, yellows, oranges—not so pretty. But then, look at that damn clutter of electric lines….