The First train arrives at Grand Central. 5:55 am. I slide on my gloves and exit onto 48th.
The Streets are free of the morning rush. No horns. Light traffic. A handful of us are on the streets. One sneaks into a diner for a cup of coffee. Another stands huddled along the wall, ember glowing from his cigarette, stomping his feet to stay warm. Millions sleep in the hulking towers looming above.
NYC, my kind of town, pre 6 am.
There boils the paradox. The craving for quiet, for stillness. The Need for the warming salve of Solitude. And, yet, the wiring is to stay in Motion. A spinning top turning and turning and turning, only to teeter at dusk and collapse into bed. [Read more…]