Cannizaro Park on a week day afternoon in February.
Impressions: Bone chillingly cold, wet, fat raindrops. Secluded, calming, distant mist, curious, green fountain. Decorative gardens, small pond, pink wall, red brick, lichen, ivy, moss, wooded. Cross country running school girls with pony tails in crested sports kits, shepherded by yelling staff, voices echoing around the park. Many paths in many directions, paths leading to a locked gate or swampy mud or back to a path I’ve already been on or to somewhere new.
Question: What paths and routes are available to you? Where do they lead to? Which one will you take?