I was in New York's Central Park and a very green man was twisting equally green balloons into animals. It was St. Patrick's Day and hundreds of green clad adults and children were about.
I didn't buy a balloon animal. I didn't even linger. I was in a hurry to cross Fifth Avenue before they closed it off.
Something happened to me over the course of the day. I thought of the balloon man as a kind of Pythagoras, who understood early in the morning just how the day would progress. All day, jammed in the crowds were wheelchair users, people with canes, elderly people. And their forms were struggling to unfold.
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