Among the many fantastic things about this metropolis are the armies of marginally employable men picking up garbage, so that the jam-packed streets are clean. And the $25 weekly transit pass for all transportation. I haven’t taken a single cab, I’ve just been swiping my pass on the subway and busses. The system is a marvel of efficiency, and how I love not standing in the street, desperately waving my arms to compete with armies of New Yorkers wanting cabs, a terrifying prospect. Once during a snowstorm here, when I was six months pregnant, a man shoved me out of the way and took the cab for himself.
Though the weather continues sublime, I know it’s fall, because the garden is shutting down and suddenly there’s so much