In New York, there’s always a possibility of seeing something incongruous, like a vintage amusement park lion in the back of a truck in Soho. Begs a story, no? Where did it come from? Where is it going? How many heads could fit in its mouth? Is it trying to eat that statue? Maybe it was a water fountain at a zoo. I don’t know, but it makes me want to curl up inside its mouth and take a nap.