It’s early evening and the hillside overlooking the bay in Sunset Park is crowded with picnickers, kids playing games, Chinese women doing calisthenics and groups of older men standing around smoking and chatting. Just below where I’m sitting, a Chinese man has pushed his son’s wheelchair onto the grass at the edge of the field and parked it there. The son is severely disabled, and sits slumped over in the wheelchair while the father squats next to him talking on the phone. Meanwhile, child of about two or three is running back and forth through the crowd, his father following several steps behind. At some point the child notices the man in the wheelchair and is immediately drawn to him. He runs up to the man – but at the last second the father catches the child and kneels down next to him. Perhaps at the father’s urging, the child raises his hand in a waive, which the man in the wheelchair reciprocates as best he can. Then the child is off again, running this way and that, the father halfheartedly following. I notice at some point that the child seems to be looking for something in the grass. After several minutes of fruitless searching he bends over and grabs what he’s looking for. Again the child makes a B-line for the man in the wheelchair. When he arrives the child holds out his hand: in it is a fallen leaf. The man in the wheelchair extends his contorted hand to receive the gift, and his father smiles at the child’s father. Then the child sprints away, disappearing into the crowds in the hazy early sunset light.