Somewhat shamefully, I got lost exploring this creepy wonderful gigapan photo of the crowd. I was looking for the perfect viewing location where I might have liked to sit. This is why I can't adequately flesh out my quintessential essay on water and land use and refute misguided notions of the definition and role of planning. Too busy, busy, busy.
But here it is - atop a bronze horse in Ulysses S. Grant's artillery caisson - just this side of the reflecting pool visible on the far far right side of the composition - far enough away for some privacy from this imaging, on a thick rolled blanket, in warm parka and boots.
The figure of Death appears on the horse in front of hers, holding a sickle. The guy on the horse's head looks a little nervous and lucky not to fall.