Following lunch, in what must be one of the few Peruvian/Chinese restaurants in the world, let alone New York, we all go our seperate ways. I decide to walk home, as i could do with some fresh air, and it's the first time the temperature has been reasonable at around 80 deg. my first stop off is at the Lincoln centre and Metropolitan Opera House. It's not opera season, as the ballet is in town, afraid I've never really got into that. I like some of the music, and I sort of get the dance thing and can appreciate the expertise of the performers, but it never holds my imagination long enough.I can get completely lost in a opera, but ballet just loses me.
I continue down to the southern tip of the Park, and decide to walk south down 5th Avenue. It's well after 4pm and the street and stores are still as crowded as they would be on a Saturday. The who's who of consumerism bristles with action, the Apple store has a queue, FAO Schwartz is overflowing with cuddly toys, Tiffany's is dripping with security guards, Bergdorf Goodman's has better dressed windows than most museum exhibits, and Louis Vuitton has wannabe WAGS droolling. Yet inbetween each of the big names there's a reality check, to show that the 'Yellow Brick Road' isn't paved with gold for everyone, there's a undertow of loneliness and unhappiness and then I spot her, defiant, black, loud, 'the statue of poverty' a much more fitting symbol to the modern world.
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