Tumblr posts tagged #Central Park from across Tumblr — no login required.
Day in Fandom History: June 12… As Cole tries to stop an ill-ridden Paige from hunting down a rat that’s been invading their home, Owen investigates what happened with the sanitary crew when dealing with a garbage problem, while Molly becomes concerned over Brendan’s well-being. “Garbage Ballet” premiered on this day, 6 Years Ago.
Day in Fandom History: June 5… As Owen prepares to give a speech at the Hat Luncheon charity event, Paige tries to get some information from the Mayor during the luncheon for her report, while Cole takes Molly to meet up with Brendan. “Hat Luncheon” premiered on this day, 6 Years Ago.
Ein Drohnenflug über den Central Park Den Central Park kennt vermutlich jeder, mindestens vom Hörensagen und wenn man so will, ist das die grüne Lunge von New York. Wobei New York mittlerweile auch zu groß sein dürfte, um maximal davon zu profitieren, wobei der mit 3,41 km2 auch nicht gerade klein ist. Das ist in manchen Orten schon ein kompletter Stadtteil, hier und da vielleicht sogar ein ganzes Dorf. Genauso wild ist auch, dass es ganze 20 Jahre gebraucht hat, bis das Ding fertiggestellt war, anfänglich aber nur als Promenade für die reichen Anwohner gedacht. Gut, dass sich das über die Zeit gedreht hat – ich mein, ist ja nicht so, als hätten die oberen 1% nicht ausreichend andere Privilegien, Stichwort „schnell mal für einen Cappuccino nach Sylt“ und so. Um noch mit ein paar Daten um mich zu werfen: Die Fußwege haben insgesamt eine Länge von etwas mehr als 93 Kilometern, da muss der Fußbus also weit fahren, wenn man das alles mal betreten haben will. 275 Vogelarten leben dort (was cool ist!) und pro Jahre kommen dort wohl an die 38 Millionen Besucher durch. Und einer davon ist vielleicht auch RP Meier, der uns nachfolgend einen kleinen Drohnenflug über und ein bisschen durch den Park schenkt, damit wir da nicht selber durchmüssen: Weiterlesen ->
16-Year-Old Carriage Horse Collapsed and Died During Ride in New York’s Central Park The death of a 16-year-old carriage horse in New York City’s Central Park has reignited a long-running debate over the future of the city’s horse-drawn carriage industry. The incident unfolded on the evening of June 9 when a horse named Deniz suddenly collapsed while pulling a carriage near 72nd Street and Central Park West. Despite efforts to respond to the emergency, the horse died… 16-Year-Old Carriage Horse Collapsed and Died During Ride in New York’s Central Park
Lucian Lucian was a gentle ghost who sometimes forgot that he had died. He wandered Central Park, that green heart of Manhattan. A few could feel him there—the painters, the dreamers— though they could never quite answer back, and so his loneliness learned to listen for light. Lucian carried armfuls of stories, for he had been writing a children’s tale when he left the world. So he hurried after one child, then another, offering adventures like bright kites, and for a little while they laughed with him. Now and then, a day opened like a window, and he made a friend. Adults could not hear him, and often led their children away, but wonder, once awakened, was not so easily sent home. Louis was another such boy, lost in a car accident, who woke believing he had only risen out of a hard dream until memory returned with morning’s light, and yet each dawn grew a little kinder. When Lucian found Louis, they ran through Central Park as if the wind had claimed them for its own. The squirrels stared as though the world had briefly sung out of tune, then blamed it on the breeze—for even doubters sometimes bow to mystery. There were others, too. Many drifted through Grand Central Station, lonely souls still hoping for a conversation, but most people could neither see nor hear them. Strangers passed through them as if they were made only of weather, sometimes a hundred times in a single hour. Even so, memory did not only wound them; it kept their names alight. The sensitive ones still felt them—the poet mid-line, the actor in a pause, the artist turning toward a shimmer they could not explain. They were rare, but not so rare that hope forgot them. And when the skies darkened, the ghosts would gather close in the tunnels, not only from fear, but to keep one another warm, wondering whether the hand above them might still be on its way, to lead them toward whatever meadow waits beyond, whatever bright country that may be. And if they were meant to linger here a little longer, they would learn, together, how even this in-between world can hold a little dawn.
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