Now, I love hammocks, because I am by nature a lazy, placid soul. However. There's a certain intimacy to the act of laying in a hammock, is there not? An intimacy which would perhaps be disrupted, if one were oh let's say just for instance laying in a hammock among many other hammocks which the city of New York had affixed to trees in a public park, like so many Spaceboxes? Or am I just being unnaturally squeamish? Tell me your thoughts, I'm genuinely curious.