D. stared into the reflection on the pond in Central Park...it was a beautiful fall day and he had paused to take in the beauty...outside the park one could feel the insane hum of Manhattan on a business day...although worn and tattered, D. still put emphasis on the aesthetic...ink the reflection on the pond you could see it...the beautiful fall colors...the photographic precision of the buildings upon the water...he chuckled at his youthful arrogance but despite all that he was still alive and he was still creating...the others had been subsumed into business and the false movies of the american movie junk dream...the others just were going through the motions of a stale life just trying to exist in a contracting America...the Raj had given up...so had Bowie...they could never turn off their bad thoughts...and still others became alcoholic clowns delaying their final desitnation of the abyss....
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