On one side, First Avenue with six lanes of traffic, some pouring into an underground express road or others, mostly taxis and black diplomatic vans zipping in and out and around one another attempting to scoop up passengers or dropping them off without armed security guards getting annoyed.
On the other side, the towering ventilation building for the Midtown Tunnel.
And in between, in a block-long, black tar asphalt, playground yard
, something I never saw before, but always heard about or read about in some story that takes place other places in America.
A father patiently teaching his little boy how to play baseball
Throwing and catching
and talking and showing. And then throwing and catching and talking and showing. And again, throwing and catching and talking and showing...
Like Father, Like Son
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The Definition Of Heaven On Earth
When Bliss Intersects With Home