So, I am in a mood most foul after a typical day on my own personal road to Utopia when I descend into the malodorous 42nd Street subway station.

There, to my surprise is . . . the Angel of Love.

And, she is handing out . . .

messages of love.

And, I am charmed. She seems so guileless and weird.  She is probably an out-of-work actress rather than an out-of-her-mind NYer.

And then I think, does she make a living this way?  Can I do this AND support my family?

One moment’s flight of fantasy is followed by the cold-hearted calculations, all in the City where there is a broken heart for every light on Broadway.