Where two police officers and three good samaritans laugh when the elderly widow who absolutely does not want to go to the hospital even though she is now bleeding from the head after tripping on the curb  jokes, "My husband beat me!" when the EMT asks her what happened.

Where the kids in the Gifted and Talented kindergarten sing "I'm as
good as I can be, there is no one quite like me... special, special,
special me... I'm as special as can be" as the parents-of-potentially-
gifted-and-talented-children touring the school try to loom less
conspicuously.

Where a boy who is just learning to read follows the city's directions.

Where the CVS employee says, "How I got to know what's in your pocket and what's not in your pocket?" and the man in the wheel chair yells, "I lived in this neighborhoods before you was BORN--I could be your Pops, your POPS!"

Where one of the mothers at Super Soccer Stars is, among other things, French.

Where a woman holding a toddler runs out of Duane Reade, jumps into the front seat and pleads with a man who is in the process of towing her orange mini Cooper.

Where four people claiming to be the FBI but not even pretending to have a warrant yell "Check his pockets! He's the one we're looking for!" and apprehend a fifth person while a young voyeur balances his fear and delight.

Where on Columbus Avenue a man tucks the huge balloon rat's tail under the rat's hind leg so it stops flapping and slapping against the sidewalk like a live fish.

Where in Greenwich Village the girls are unveiling.

Where, while watching the "diva in training" doing live yoga in the window of Lululemon, one man says to another, "This is better than reading the New York Times!"

Where a man says to his daughter, "because it's not your birthday," but then the stranger sitting next to the little girl carefully unwraps a bright red from her many helium balloons and gives it and a sheet of princess stickers and a pencil with unicorn eraser to the very happy not birthday girl.

Where in the Times Square subway station a woman dumps her bags on a wooden bench, hurriedly unsnaps her cloth carrier, frantically wrestles with a bright floral cover and smiles a slow smile as her screaming baby quiets.

Where, walking into the early morning sun on their way to school, a woman and her 12 year old son almost pass a mother and her baby doll perched in the crook of a tree without noticing.

Where the American flag, the Israeli flag and an octopus pennant snap in the wind on the top of an apartment building on 99th street.

Where, after clipping his nails on the 2 express train, the violinist carefully replaces his small gold nail clipper into a green, upholstered compartment in his violin case.

Where on East 57th Street the Prada's sole-affixed price tag is almost but not quite legible in its own reflection.

Where a woman spends half the night reading in a cold, dry hotel bathtub so as not to wake her sleeping, snoring family.

Where an unusually cold, wet winter retreats, leaving, in its wake, a lush field of poppies and other wildflowers at the northern edge of Israel.

Where everything is quiet on the finger of the Galilee.

Where on the back wall of Simchee cleaners on Columbus avenue a clock with the twelve ideograms of the zodiac and Hebrew letters marking the hours is the last vestige of the previous owner.