As we write this, on May 1, 2020, we’re 7 weeks into a global lockdown. Quarantine. Call it what you will. This wasn’t the way the year was supposed to go. It was supposed to get warmer, winter was supposed to give way to spring, buds were going to start peeking out from tree branches and nipples from under shirts. Life was going to start again.
We got a little foretaste of it on March 9 — a preview of the spring on a day when, improbably, the sun came out and the temperature soared into the 70s.
It seemed like all of New York City came out into the streets and parks to breathe deep of the suddenly temperate air. There must have been a few thousand people in Washington Square Park, seated side by side on the grass, still damp and slightly muddy from the previous night’s rain.
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