Sometimes the clouds and the river move in opposite directions. One World Trade Center never seems to move at all, however. Maybe if we put up an identicial one right next to it, it would seem a little more at home. I continued to make friends with many of the other buildings in Tribeca. I turned down one street and discovered what I wanted for Christmas this year: a small but charming bridge. Or maybe a cobblestone street. Meanwhile, at home, Zephyr saw a rabbit on television and asked if he could try out a new "ear-do." I didn't take him long to decide that he wasn't thrilled with the results. The houses across the street looked very appealing in the morning sun. I wondered if there would ever be a bridge crossing over to them, but it seemed unlikely. The bricks in the garden offered a reasonable approximation of the cobblestones, and for that I felt grateful.
The ferns weren't bothered by the cold, which seemed kind of miraculous. Nor was the variegated ivy; I asked them a question: "Do you even know that it's almost winter?" and they were like, "lol?" Dante: "Who knew that variegated ivy could talk?" "Let us pray for a mild winter," said the statue, "even though we are appalled by most other effects of global warming and humanity's inability to do much about it."
Elektra: "What am doing out here? It's freezing and I don't have socks on." Everyone who could went inside while those who couldn't enjoyed the pre-winter quiet.