If you get bored of Central Park, head north to Harlem. While exploring the neighborhood today, I bumped into the park of my dreams — rocky, smart, beautiful place with public art, an amphitheater, and a swimming pool.
On the rocks — a plywood sculpture.
Locals of all colors.
Standing at the highest point of Harlem, the city of jazz.
The only point where New York skyline is hard to identify.
Richard Rogers Amphitheatre was quite empty and uneventful.
Moving on — Manhattan manholes.
And Manhattan couches.
A widely spread local seating solution.
Acts of local storytelling.
No parking sign.
Another Arthurious mobile.
Purple is the most common color in Harlem.
And then, of course, I had to hop on the One train downtown to Julliard School just in time for the private concert of young composers. The concert was phenomenal. You can imagine, I forgot the way to the elevator and stumbled upon dozens of cellos, drums, and pianos scattered around the corridors — a surreal scene. For a moment, I wanted to summon my sleeping bag to dispatch myself under a grand piano and spend a night right there in the middle of New York but alas.
By the way, a cello case for a musician is like a pair of chopsticks for a Korean — it’s yours: it stays with you, it ages with you, it struggles with you (and flies with you on the plane).