In the course of the night rides the last couple of evenings, it seemed to me that I wasn't seeing the Egg as I passed in the darkness. I was focused on making time, though, and didn't think much of it. This evening, I started the ride early enough to reach the spot in daylight, and... the Egg is gone, without a trace.
Perhaps it's been added to the permanent collection of the Waldorf School or the Lexington Center for the Arts. Perhaps it was carried off by the Bad Boys, although they are seldom so tidy. Or perhaps it was raptured up by its creator. In any event, it had a 14-month run, if I'm reckoning the time correctly, and survived that
miserable winter. Perhaps now its anonymous sculptor will gift us with another rustic mobile. Before the
Egg there was the
Pyramid; maybe he or she will weave us a hypercube next.
Continued on out the Minuteman as far as Bedford Street, noting as I turned around that the signs about the construction closure are also gone; you win some, you lose some.
rod