The 16-acre expanse just off Harvard Square never seems to be that full of people. This a quiet outdoor spot, then, for gentle sobbing.

Plus, when you’re all done, there’s quite a bit of history to take in, including a major Civil War monument and a trio of British cannon that George Washington’s army seized in 1776.

No one will notice the tears in this dense, open, and often rowdy seating area in America’s oldest major-league park—unless it’s a particularly rough game for the Red Sox and most fans split by the top of the seventh (which has become increasingly likely this season).

This expanse provides a perfect habitat for a kind of rolling, strolling cry. Enter through Franklin Park itself for even more buildup. The laughter of large groups of children might cheer you a bit as you finish.

The 32-acre ribbon provides the perfect mix of relatively quiet seclusion and exposure to the urban elements.

Plus, it and the surrounding area are very pedestrian friendly.

The barrel-vaulted ceiling of this grand room in this grand library provides the perfect echo chamber for your sobs—for when you just want someone to finally notice.

What else are you going to do on it—get where you’re going?

This is another secluded spot out in the open. No one will ever think that someone came to cry amid the whimsy of that delightful pear sculpture.

This barely decade-old waterfront park affords fabulous views of the current and future Boston skyline.

Weep at the grandeur of humankind and despair of its mortality.

Or just gently contemplate the state of things. You won’t be bothered.