The Park/ The other side

Today I thought to take another angle on the long list of assignments due in soon. As the last couple of days have been eventful and, dare I say, at times mind-blowing; it was time to think outside of the box. So outdoors it was for inspiration, a quiet mind and hopefully an end to my film story.

My story starts in a fairytale like village, think Amelie or cute French town meets the green of The Shire. Its heroine is a ten-year old girl who goes on an adventure on her pink bicycle.  She rides up the hill to obtain her goal and then down a hill again. Actually, when I first pitched this story, it ended on top of the hill. Our tutor advised to keep on going until she came down again. In other words: think of a different ending. Hmm. Mind racing unfruitfully, I thought Central Park’s nature surroundings might inspire me.

I was looking for the off-road, hilly paths trying to avoid the runners ( and my runner’s guilt. ) when I suddenly spotted her. Actually she came zooming past singing aloud. She was a little younger – she still had her side-wheel on-  but her bike was pink and it had a white basket. She was wearing her hair with cute accessories (exactly like I had described in my character-bio) underneath a purple helmet. I just had to follow her for a bit, trying to be inconspicuous. ( I felt the International Office of our school would probably wash their hands of me if I got arrested: “She did what? Follow a random child? No sir, not part of one of our courses. Thank you. Goodbye.” )

When she struggled to get up a hill, her mother came running up and instead of pushing her ( what my initial instinct was, but No, I should not touch strange children.) she encouraged her daughter by shouting French at her. Perfect: the girl was French ( I hope, or maybe mum has some interesting parental techniques.) The girl tried, swaying forwards and making funny noises… but still rolling backwards. Now mum did step up and pushed her.

The girl was delighted and so was I. There she was, she existed.

I photographed the bike ( without the child, don’t worry mother.)  as evidence but for some reason my camera refuses to connect to my computer – Alas!

I tried sitting down in the park and be still, like they do in the movies. Sit on a bench or the grass and just be. No such luck, my mind kept spinning and I was worried about wet patches on the grass. So I kept walking, until by coincidence (yeah it’s not like I could actually orientate myself.) I hit 5th Ave and was close to the Metropolitan Museum. I realised I had done it. I crossed over from Upper West to Upper East.

Was I going to need my passport? From what I saw it’s just as nice, a little different ehm a little more prim perhaps. I found the museum ( Thank god for NY’s grid system) and before immersing myself in art, I sat on the steps . (Clean and no risk of wet patches.)

Strangely enough, there in front of a colossal cultural treasure chest, amongst a hundred other tourists with the sun on my face and a live a-cappella group busking in the background: my mind finally went still and was simply very happy.

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