“Monday, school shopping at the Atlantic Terminal, where the sunshine melted the soft serve so violently that an old woman sharing our bench had to walk away from the carnage. Picnic dinner in the Nethermead. We almost got mowed down by a fascist biker getting her speed-gasm on coming down past the 16th St. entrance. She’d probably waited all day for that high. I watched a patrol SUV chase after her with sirens blaring. Is there a speed limit for bikers? Can they get penalized for wreckless endangerment? But the gateway to paradise has always been guarded by monstrous creatures. Why am I surprised? We will not be deterred.”–Brooklynometry