![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIuZYTwlpewYXVvIKNxc90J-WO9BmpX0YK0uQ9k_LmX6jlezwySxSqacU913l76EWSNFDE_LFEQhk0JP7IkmJRPmjkX4NXsvWBNrQmP_ytoYQ3-DaCbCtHL25IRrATVuDuhyphenhyphenY5vYuCtsQ/s400/08-08-02_sunset-bench_pjk.jpg)
The VCCA grounds are full of public art, much of it designed to facilitate contemplation.
This one is variously known as "the sunset bench," "the kissing bench," and "the pot-smoking bench."
It’s easy to talk about the beauty of this place in visual terms. The rolling fields and quiet forests, the golden hills and the distant mountains have a soothing effect on the eyes. But the other senses are the ones that trap memories and they’re the ones that will haunt me when I go back to Brooklyn: the sweet smell of the Earth, the warm sun on my face, the wind and the wall of cicada-sound, the gentle rocking of the pool-mattress as I watch the clouds slowly break apart and re-form...
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