You will be leaving in a few minutes, and in those few minutes you indulge your graphomania. But first you must write down the rhyme you were humming all morning:

Tweedledum and Tweedledee Agreed to have a battle, For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his rattle.

You read that this morning at a statue of Alice in the Wonderland in Central Park, Olmsted's grand masterpiece. And as you rode back on the C train, you noticed that a girl sitting opposite to you shared an uncanny resemblence to Mariel Hemingway in Woody Allen's Manhattan, which was also a visual hymn to a city and one man's obsession with it.

You are greatful that you purposefully forgot the camera behind for must toursits you observe with complex pieces of machinery seem to be more obssessed in capturing the city for the native back home, rather than just wondering about the wierdness of it all - a forest in a city, a sheep medow in a city, and the city with its persistent low roar never too far away.

In a few hours you will be crossing another border, and now you have gotten into the swing of wandering about. You recall the argument made by Bruce Chatwin that man is inherently nomadic, and settling down leads to repression which further leads to violence. And thus to restore one's equilibrium it's best to wander around. As he put in in his most brilliant book:

"I have a vision of the Songlines stretching across the continents and ages; that wherever men have trodden they have left a trail of song; and that these trails must reach back, in time and space, to an isolated pocket in the African savannah, where the First Man shouted the opening stanza to the World Song, "I am!"

So you go on now, to walk this northen songline by wing and foot.

Updates will resume when I return this Sunday...lots of notes to transcribe....