In late February of 2005, I found myself walking along a path in Central Park when, at dusk, a light snow began to fall. As the snow blanketed the landscape, it sucked up the sounds of the city, leaving only one thing audible: the sound of the saffron curtains over our heads lazily flapping in the breeze. Suddenly, Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s The Gates stood out in brilliant contrast to the ear just as they popped…