this is what obama calls improvement of the park. i sit in the window on the 17th floor breathing the air and wondering about the chemical smell of the drifting dust. we didn't think of this before he came and settled here, where he is not, this place he with his many mansions calls "home." i wonder what obama would feel if he was me, sitting here in the window watching the monstrous development encroaching across the street. of course, that would never happen to the oligarch. just me, dreaming up here in the window.