From a lobby floor seeded with L.E.D. messages to a robotic spider loaded with video cams that creeps across the building facade peering in windows to report on the action, information technology has infiltrated every surface.
A rounded, wooden structure erupts through the floor; seed-like clusters pop out of enlarged pores in the wall; and plaster is dripping from a crack in the ceiling, pulled down by gravity.
Under this theory, during bumper years, the trees litter the forest floor with seeds so completely that squirrels, jays, deer and bears cannot possibly eat them all.
Most of these quail doves live on the forest floor, collecting fallen seeds and fruits and seeds from low herbage, but in Australia a few are found in open country.
A tall brown heap containing seeds for little bluestem (a classic prairie grass) and other species lay recently on the floor of his seed-cleaning mill waiting to be processed.
The pods are harvested from the forest floor, and the seeds are taken out, dried in the sun, and then washed and exported while still in their shells.
A fan might throw this down onto Broadway, keeping hold of one end, expecting it to "unfurl in some miraculous way," he said, and the finger of his right hand spiralled to the floor like a sycamore seed.
Amira has a five-year-old son, who sat on the floor eating roasted pumpkin seeds.
At the other end of the floor, the No. 6-seeded Terrapins found gaps around West.
Last October the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei covered the floor with his "Sunflower Seeds": 100 million tiny porcelain objects, each handmade by a master craftsman, no two identical.
It has been a long journey for a little bird that once scratched away at forest floors for insects, seeds and fruit.
