Friday, June 10, 2016


"The world knew New York as the city that never sleeps, but it seemed to Michael that there was an hour each morning, maybe less than an hour, maybe only fifteen minutes, that were so singularly still and silent that those minutes stretched out until they felt like an hour, when there were no cars on the avenue, no horns, no dog walkers, no one hosing down the sidewalk, no one sweeping, no heels clicking, no brakes squealing, no nine-to-fivers weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic, because there was no pedestrian traffic, not yet."
Mary Beth Keane, The Walking People

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