
Two thousand and eight's last day of March embraces Central Park with a romantically melancholic mood. Everything feels as if time fell asleep and everyone and everything looks and feels as if in slow motion. The city that never sleeps slows down. Yet, everything that the park offers goes on as any other time. The cold and on-and-off drizzly weather becomes simply a mood setter not an impediment on New Yorkers' lives style.














