Instead of wearing shoes today, I let a pair of penguins grab my feet and carry me to work. On the F train, a young girl sitting with her mommy and daddy, on her way to a tour of Alcatraz, offered the birds a Triscuit. The penguin on the right tut-tutted. “Tragedy is a string of piano keys.” The one on the left completed the thought. “A Triscuit, however, is the heart of a black hole.” The little girl lit up, crinkling her lip. “Nice shoes!” she said.

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