Known or unknown: Murals
Among the muck, the parka-wearing, the shivering under layers (the real cardio of winter), the pains in every limb and joint, the inability to breathe . . . among all that, not long ago, I fond myself at a private reception at The Met. Okay, so it's no secret that I've long held The Met as a favorite, on sunny days, on the other side of the moon, when I have a day with nothing to do and no deadlines I'll spend a carefree day there. Or, I'll just spend a few hours there when I can't stand the fight anymore. Come to think of it; I should be there now. To dream, as we say. Back to that reception, which sounds swankier than it is . . . Professors got a night, for free, replete with free cocktails at the end. I mean, seriously, people. Who in her right mind would turn down free booze AND art? Not I, that is certain. So, a friend from grad school and I met up and let ourselves into The Met, and then we spotted for which walks and talks to atte...