9A.M. The sun is hidden behind clouds, leaving the world in a shadow that brings to mind late dusk or the earliest dawn.

And yet she stands out. Her back is straight, yet she appears huddled – the black and white stripes of her blanket falling in folds around her, her straight black hair shielding her face from the cool air. The bench she sits on is stone. Although brown leaves are piled at her feet, still more grow green on the trees to either side of her.

She sits on the Fifth Avenue bench, dressed for work, lost in contemplation.

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11:30A.M. He sits on a folding chair, far back, until someone stops to consider his watercolors. Cherry blossoms captured in a deep red, like a blanket of snow falling – a white tiger looking out at you – a home shrouded in blue mists among the mountains.

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12:00P.M. He sits on the park bench, surrounded by leaves, dogs and people passing by. He balances his laptop, his Blackberry in his right hand, opening a newspaper in his left – oblivious to the world, even my camera.

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Recreated Moment, 11:45A.M. I approach two women who are considering a map, ask if they are lost and/or need help (God knows how many times I have to ask for directions still). They don’t need help, but they tell me about themselves – their names are Dot and Sandy, and they are visiting from Canada. They’ve just seen the Frick, and are debating the Met or the Guggenheim next. They ask me where I’m from – apparently offering my help was a giveaway that I’m not a native New Yorker! We all agree, though, that New Yorkers are quite helpful – the trick is getting them to stop and pay attention. I’ve made a conscious decision in New York to smile at as many people as I can without making myself uncomfortable and to offer assistance whenever it looks appropriate. As a side benefit, I get to hear some cool accents!