I didn't mean to end up wandering around Central Park yesterday. Or to inquire after dik-diks at the zoo. Or to learn to hula-hoop. Or to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, or eat a burrito at the Fulton Slip. I didn't intend to see Angélique Kidjo in Prospect Park, to run into Nick Hill there, or to sip a cranberry-and-seltzer at a bar while yakking on to C about my job or life.
I intended to go to Summerstage, but serendipity intervened when the headliner cancelled. And me without my camera, on a gorgeous summer day.
The cell phone camera is a poor substitute.