Each one is now only a block of marble with a hole in the middle. They are a little elevated. There are two cones, one on each side. I want to take a cone home.
Finn
The gates are not up for another week. There are just cones and metal stuff and they have As and Bs and they are across from each other. There are a million in all directions.
Alexa
Poem
The sweet smell of Central Park.
Pretty and wonderful.
Leaves.
The smell of mildew and hot dogs.
J.D.
The bases are plain. They have orange cones marking them and they are black.
Alex
Cool. some of them have leaves under them. They have letters on them. They are rock stools.
Matthew
