By eight the pond had given up being a shortcut. Three capybaras took the warmest plank of the little pier, arranged themselves by whisker, and sat as if the rest of the city had been waiting for an example.
We asked at the kiosk. I came for a bun, said a woman with a paper bag, and stayed because the water finally looked like it was listening. A duck climbed onto the same plank and practiced sitting without a single editorial quack.
The park keeper posted a handwritten sign: today you may be unhurried. He added, in smaller letters, that the capybaras were not officials, only excellent examples.