I met Z. for dinner,
In the Met, we strayed from vase to krater, mask to print, fabric scrap to turban finial. One monolith was labeled as either shrine or goal post, a sure sign that the curators don't actually know what it is. Tlaloc-the-rain-god and vultures recurred. From the roof terrace, we surveyed skyscrapers and obelisks; on the second floor, we wandered through Venice and Islam, the walls painted gem-like colors. A full, proper afternoon tea civilized the expedition, with finger sandwiches, petit-fours, and delightful scones flecked with candied currants. We still don't know what Yellow and Blue tea is, but we drank it nonetheless; after lemonade, it tasted of honey to me.
Sunlight and good company tamed Manhattan for a day, but New York City is still mostly a stranger to me.