I love Central Park, and although the ~Wild North End~ remains a mystery to me, I could walk through most of it in my sleep. The reservoir, the boat pond, and the other boat pond. The little lake at the 57th street entrance, the Ladies Pavilion, The Merchant's Gate Plaza Cafe, and the Ancient Playground with it's hippo sprinklers we were never allowed to go in, curses. But the BEST PART of Central Park, if you can narrow its beauty down, is the random, fascinating, enchanting and mysterious statues tossed here and there. Finding a new one is a triumph, rediscovering an old one is just as impressive. Then again, I've always had something for statues.
The panther on the drive.
These are somewhere in the vague area of Strawberry Hill.
My lovely bear, at the entrance to the Central Park Zoo. (Where I met Martin Landau on my tenth birthday.)
The Mother Goose statue that I can never find unless I am not looking for it.
The Alice statue, which I always seem to find, even when I'm trying to get away from it. Also, this is the only statue that is socially acceptable to climb.
The top of the fountain at the end of the Mall, near the row boating lake.
The beautiful falconer, on the east side of the Mall, that you can't get to without going all the way around.
The little girl fountain wayyyy up north, near the exit of the Garden.
My mother's favorite statue... THE POLISH KING.
Ah Romeo and Juliet, near the Delacourt Theater, obviously.
The Goddess of Victory, at the Columbus Circle entrance.
NETFLIX. Where the frell are my disks? Hurry up now I am serious. Today is St Inigo's Day. He was a hermit in Spain, who was kind and nice and made life better for everyone, because he wasn't like a real hermit. He was like a Nice Old Man. Then he died of natural causes.