Empire State of Mind

I get into New York at 8:40, am in Soho by 9, eat pizza in the West village by 10 at some place called Joes. Weather is cooler here and the pizza is much better. In the words of the guys at Joes, "it is made by italian hands, with American hands accepting the money." 

Musicians sing the Beatles in Washington Square Park surrounded by an engaged crowd. Young couples pollinate benches. I meet a group of old friends and hit a bar in Soho, which is well attended by recent graduates. Seems like a tough time to leave the cocoon of college and enter the workforce.

The sky turns into a cool blue pool in the early hours of Saturday morning. Cabs slink by, and the city recovers. I do too.