A woman sits, starring off into the park and I wonder what she is looking at so contentedly. Following her gaze I see so many movers, bikers, carriages with and without, children doing as they do, so it doesn't matter what on the gaze rests. It is all suffocatingly gorgeous. All the languages, a man yelling of selling birds. The sun setting behind silhouetted, dark-gray sky scrapers, proclaiming the last rays of this first warm day. The history nerd in me likes to think Olmsted is smiling down at ALL the people in his park, so different in their ways and all breaking the rules he carefully laid out. It still works joy without laws. The reward for a job well done a century later. We of the city owe him and the many workers and dollars a series of thank you notes, thoughts, and songs. For creating a nature in the midst of the stunning man-made madness.