There's a patch of midtown sidewalk I cross just about every weekday. Have a look. What is an easily ignorable pattern of pavement is, on closer inspection, a pigeon's path immortalized on East 45th Street. It kind of reminds me of those instructional dance diagrams, the steps tracing an elegant arc then retreating back on itself. I imagine the bird in question as it imprinted itself on the still wet cement, like a Hollywood Star in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater leaving its footprints for posterity. Was it being playful? Did the soft unformed pavement feel nice on its tired feet after a lifetime of striking hard ground? Maybe it's a panicked path, attempting to flee. But the fact that it doubled back tells another story. Regardless the little feathered city dweller has, for the time being, become timeless.