I could see my breath in the air as I exhaled; it was that cold. I shivered, wrapping my vintage Burberry coat around me. It didn’t matter whether it was chilly or warm, whether it was 102 degrees or 2 degrees. I was in my favorite place in the world, and that’s all that mattered.

Central Park. If you’ve ever gone to New York, you know how beautiful it is. I wrapped my brown scarf around my neck and hoped that my ears weren’t as red as Rudolph’s nose. I passed The Pond, watching dozens of brave ice skaters land their lutzes and help eachother up. I walked past the Metropolitan Museum of Art, admiring its stunning architecture. I strolled across the vast park to the Jackie Onassis Reservoir, watching as guys in cashmere sweaters dribbled around a soccer ball on the frozen grass.

I approached the Meadow, watching as people versed eachother in basketball games. I sat down on a bench and ate a hot dog fresh from a vendor, smiling. Central Park was the best, even if I was freezing all my toes off here. =]