That evening was cold. Upon my first contact with Prospect Park in Brooklyn I knew, felt, a different impression to the one I perceived at Central Park. Call it “intimacy”. Maybe it was the colors, or the narrow paths, sinously drawn, through the carpet of leaves. But let me tell you that I fell in love with its personality, its way to uncertainty. Autumn in Prospect Park is a enjoyable experience of reds, yellows, oranges, and introspection. That evening was cold but I forgot about it almost immediately, as I walked and took pictures at Prospect Park.