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| Kicking our feet up. |
As it does, fluffy flakes pirouette slowly over Central Park.
With bourbon-barrelled beer on our breath, and frost in our fingertips, we do the same.
Angular branches cut into the darkness, striking dramatic poses in the shadows. It’s like a dance number in an old black-and-white movie and they’re our backups. We sway with the whispers of winter’s chill.
The city shares its romance with its visitors.
Geese huddle on the lake as a K-pop group shoots a music video. Skaters scrape through the drifts.
The city’s neon feels miles away.
It’s magic.
It’s the stuff of movies.
And it’s forever astounding such a space exists at the heart of the city.
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