This is my view right now.
In theory, this should be a very inspiring spot to be in when one needs to write. But mainly, I just want to lay down on that great green bed and go to sleep. I’m not big enough, unfortunately, but the smell of horse poop and the honking cab horns would also make it difficult.
What a world it is in there. Forests and fields. Boulders and lakes. Museums and an amusement park. Criminals and tourists and buskers and athletes. Plenty of space for everyone.
Central Park isn’t the only utopia I’ve gotten to visit today. We went to see the Bodys Isak Kingelez exhibit City Dreams at the MOMA. All of his work is beautiful and imaginative. The virtual reality tour of Villa Fantome is amazing; I want to live in his city that needs no police, no soldiers and no doctors, because everyone is free and no gets sick or violent.
Vacation in Manhattan can seem utopian, if you have enough money to do what you like. But the money is the problem. To need it, to spend it, who it excludes and includes . . . decidedly not utopian. It’s more restful not to think about it and just keep looking out this window.
MEMOIR WRITING PROMPT: What’s your idea of utopia?