Catcher in the Rye

 I’m depressed as hell. I was thinking about the ducks in Central Park. What happens to the ducks when the pond freezes over? Who looks after the ducks? I asked my taxi driver who didn’t particularly care. Well if no one looks after the ducks when their world freezes over, Who’s going to look after me? Mr. Antolini told me I’m in for a big fall, and I’m beginning to agree. I’m rolling through the rye, but no one is here to catch me.