We’d ridden it every time we visited, until my brother turned thirteen and decided he was too cool. In Brooklyn, I lived near-ish Prospect Park and I loved it, but Central Park was my childhood, filled with memories of trips to the city, greasy fries and slowly spinning on the carousel. As I walked north, four lanes of yellow cabs crawled slowly on the left, while giant leafy branches hung over me on my right. It ran the length of the park, all the way up to Morningside, where it became Frederick Douglass Boulevard until it ended at the Harlem River. The avenues still confused me, and I’d been in New York three months, but CPW was also 8th Avenue, sort of like 6th was technically called Avenue of the Americas. You haven’t seen her yet, have you? Since the two of them started going out?” Important Reasons for Having Mirrors in Elevators
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