Like the bronze statue of the Angel of the Waters, those who pursue perfection find themselves paralysed by the possibility of flaw, fault or failure.

I wish I knew how to get you back. And apparently fate won't let me give up"From Central Park Song: a Screenplay

It's not how long you see something. It's how you intensely you feel it"From Central Park Song: a Screenplay

And today is really the happiest day of your life, because today you woke up and stumbled across the shadow of your soul in broad daylight."From Central Park Song: a Screenplay

As Elizabeth Blackmar and Ray Rosenzweig wrote in their magisterial history of [Central Park in NYC]: 'The issue of demoncratic access to the park has also been raised by the increasing number of homeless New Yorkers. Poor people--from the 'squatters' of the 1850s to the 'tramps' of the 1870s and 1890s to the Hooverville residents of the 1930s--have always turned to the park land for shelter...The growing visibility of homeless people in Central Park osed in the starkest terms the contradiction between Americans' commitment to democratic space and their acquiescence in vast disparities of wealth and power.

Only criminals and madmen walk into Central Park after midnight...or, occasionally, an actor. (Dark City Lights)

We took our food order to go, in greasy paper bags, and walked across Columbus Circle to Central Park. He helped me up the giant prehistoric-looking rock just off the playground.

When you look for beauty, you usually end up finding it.From Central Park Song (A Screenplay)

Let the park live in you until it sings you a song.

VISIONS OF GRANDEURI'm walking through a sheet of glass instead of the door,Flying over a giant candlestick lighting up Central Park,Repeating two courses at Hard Knock's College,And swimming through the Red Sea with silky jelly fish.I'm hopping over an empty row house in Philadelphia,Getting a seventy dollar manicure on a gondola in Venice,Wearing a white pearl necklace stolen from Goodwill,And running my first New York City marathon.I'm discussing the meaning of life with my late cat Charlie.Dating John Doe- the thirty-third chef at the White House,Running non-stop on a broken leg through a bomb-blasted city,And keeping a multi-lingual monkey named Alfredo as my pet.I'm spying on two hundred and twenty-two homegrown terrorists from Iowa,Worshiped by a red-headed gorilla named Salamander,Sleeping with a giant teddy bear dressed in black leather,And wearing hot pink lipstick over a shade of midnight blue.