Her studio was only the third I'd visited, but I knew another connection of that sort wouldn't be made, so I left the complex and spent the next few hours unsuccessfully trying to trespass behind a building where, beyond a series of fences and razor wire, I could see a small mound of broken cement with a brown leather couch on top.
On the couch was a Canadian goose and her goslings. The building occupied the entire city block. My first instinct was to just walk through the middle of the building itself and try to find the back door, but I was stopped by security. Then I found myself in an area for parking and dumpsters on the other side. There was a film crew making a music video with some bald-headed white guy wearing black wrap around sunglasses and big gold rings. Vin Diesel? I kindly waited for them to break and setup another shot, then weaved through the dumpsters to the back of the building. There I encountered another family of geese and goslings, and, rather than be attacked, spent some time climbing dumpsters.
When the geese finally moved from the fence, I approached and began looking for holes...then a group of young children appeared. "Hey," I said. "You all hang out back here?"
"Sometimes," the oldest said. "Have you seen security?"
"I just walked right past him," I said. "He seems more interested in his Instagram account than the building." This only earned me a slight snicker from a few of the kids. "So, is there a way back to that couch?" I asked.
"Yes," the oldest said. "We'll lead you there." Then he pointed at a slight break in the bottom of the fencing. "Just slide under there."
I'm thin. But...not that thin. I thanked them anyways, then went for a walk in adjoining Bush Terminal Park, which was also fenced, and I thought about growing up and how we used to just jump fences and cross backyards and fields, going anywhere we wanted, like those places were fenced off for us instead of because of us.