The weatherman threatened the city with rain on Saturday but there seems little menace in the featherweight clouds shuffling across the pale May sky. Eventually, the growing heat of the afternoon sun coerces me into Tompkins Square Park, where I sprawl out on a newborn patch of green amid the usual splay of warm-weather humanity: gutter punks rolling cheap tobacco under the trees; neo-folkies twiddling guitars, drums, and Hacky Sacks; rambunctious schoolgirls practicing for dance squad; old men playing chess; young men playing Frisbee; dog walkers of every shape, size, color, and temperament; and sallow street prophets murmuring stories about abduction, redemption, and psoriasis. Before I am able to lament the absence of my favorite one-man band, a giant sunflower lopes across the park, followed by a bright pink faerie carrying a hula hoop, and a large brown-and-red pinstriped bird... More >>>