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“Yeah, and this area over here, this part of Central Park is dedicated to him. The Strawberry Fields, part.”
“Aren’t those steps the steps where he was also, killed?” I ask.
“Yes, but I like to think about his life rather than his death.”
I smile and we continue walking through the park. We stroll in quietly through Strawberry Fields around Cherry Hill and to Bow Bridge. We stop in the middle of the bridge and lean against the railing looking over the water aptly named The Lake.
“Do you know why they call this bridge Bow Bridge?” Quinn asks.
“Not at all.” I turn and look at his profile looking over the water.
“It resembles a violinist bow. It’s also the second oldest bridge in the states.”
“How come you know some much about this bridge?” I ask with a smirk and a laugh begging to come out.
“I edited a passage when one of the staffers wrote about the bridges in Central Park for some travel book that our agency was publishing.” Our eyes connect.
“You’re not a bridge aficionado?”
He chuckles. I lean in and our lips touch briefly. We turn into one another’s embrace as we get lost in a kiss, in the middle of the bridge, making a new memory.
We soon navigate over the bridge and begin our walk within the Ramble. Walking along the pathways in silence under the canopy of leaves. We find a giant boulder and lean against it. I pull Quinn against me and breathe him in before we get lost in another kiss, feeling like a pair of teenagers angling to get their hands on one another at any opportunity that they can.
We pull apart and with a playful laugh, continue walking through the wild garden listening to the sounds of birds above and feeling the comfort of being together in a city where no one can judge our relationship.
“What made you want to see the Ramble?” Quinn asks.
“Just look around. It’s so perfectly green here. The sounds of happiness chiming from the birds, the paths and how they wind in all different ways, what’s not to want to see here? It’s just so beautiful.”
“I suppose that I never thought of this area like that. I know that a lot of bird watchers come here, but also to me it was just another park.”
After more than an hour of walking through the Ramble, and making it to Turtle pond with a view of the Belvedere Castle, we make our way out of Central Park, hail a cab, and head to Times Square.
It’s early evening and the lights begin to flicker on all over the Square. I look up at the tall buildings surrounding us and I feel like I’m on the strip in Las Vegas. Just like Las Vegas, there are people walking around, walking in every direction. Tourists and New Yorkers alike, all looking for something while here staying in motion, like a school of fish.
“Did you know that The Naked Cowboy is going to get his own statue here in New York?”
“Why would that happen, dude is a guy playing guitar in his underwear.”
“He’s been doing it for years, I think it’s the city’s way of thanking him or something.”
“Speaking of which,” Quinn raises his arm and points in the direction behind me.
The Naked Cowboy stands at the end of the street, smiling and strumming his guitar in a hat, boots and tighty whities with his moniker on his butt.
“You stay right here, I’ll be right back.” Quinn rushes past me and straight to the very man that we were just discussing.
I cover my face and when I peak through my fingers, I see Quinn and The Naked Cowboy walking this way.
