I was walking through Midtown after work yesterday, in transit between train and bus, down the Madison Avenue valley between dark glass buildings with shuttered delis and sandwich shops below. There was something bright and awful splattered in the middle of the sidewalk up ahead. Others walked wide arcs around the mess, which seemed deliberate and meaningful in its placement, like an art installation. I approached it and saw what it was: a plastic container from a deli buffet exploded open, pasta and carrots and barbecued chicken; rice and beans; macaroni and cheese, everything radiating from the center and a single white plastic fork pointing away.