Prospect Park near the Harmony Playground, Sunday, full of the smoke of cooking farms, loose organizations of people, families, communities, so many it was hard to tell where one group ended and another started. My husband said it not me "Not too many yuppies here today." Well, we were there. Still, the playground which I find so sterile was more vital than I've ever seen it, transformed by whatever it is that was going on, this practice of people inhabiting the park, vulnerably, visibly, tenaciously making a temporary home of the outdoors. One family brought their own full size plastic dining table and chairs and lined it with a table cloth.
Cooking techniques varied. A beautiful woman sitting at a picnic table near this grill where corn roasted allowed me to this picture. The corn makes a dancing pictogram of post and lintel construction, two chili peppers sizzle upside down in the doorway. Home is wherever you embrace it.
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