"All the World Is a Vast Museum"

Livingston P. Lovechild opened the door and beckoned, waving with a slight bow."After you, good sir!"Despite the thick icy gusts of snow swirling through the doorway, Harry stepped through, and Livingston followed him, pulling the door closed behind him.Outside the bar darkness had fallen, and the snow had apparently never stopped falling, now lying at least a foot and a half deep on the sidewalk and banked up in great drifts against the walls of the buildings and the iron pillars of the elevated train, completely covering the humped parked cars along the Bowery.The neon sign heralding BOB'S BOWERY BAR cast its reddish orange glow through the falling snow and onto the snow on the ground, the pale light of a street lamp glowed faintly through the blizzard, and the pink face of Livingston P. Lovechild smiled broadly at Harry's appalled face."Isn't it glorious, Harry?" shouted Livingston. He was actually serious, or at least so he seemed. "I am reminded of the snowscapes of the Ashcan…