We sit eating pierogis at the bar in the food pavilion of the market at Bryant Park, looking up at the roof. The pavilion itself is a several-stories-tall temporary structure they’ve built housing various food vendors, and its clear plastic roof and wooden floor makes it look like nothing so much as a giant greenhouse.
“What kind of industrial-strength plastic must that be,” Katie says, remarking on the clear panels of the roof. She means to not leak with the rain, but I find myself imagining the entire structure covered in snow, huge white drifts of the stuff piling up on the roof, weighing down on the plastic panels which are strong enough to withstand it, God knows how.
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