Webster Hall

New York City is Awake at Night

I walk around and step in puddles; I walk around in daylight at midnight. The sound of jazz keeps beat together with my heart, while a street musician weeps about some gal. The noise of people, the quiet loudness of some unknown tongues while a child plays the role of student, and in the village gets into some bar. The smell of food around whatever corner, the buildings pressing down upon my skull … a dirty water hot dog please, with everything, I missed the sauerkraut. Inside the park, there is a zoo, outside the zoo the hungry artists with their empty bellies are searching for some dark forgotten corner in the well-lit park.

Some happy people, some not so happy ones, the tired ones with motion sickness from riding in an elevator a bit too long.

This is New York, the city that seldom sleeps, a mosaic of people and of scents. The glowing lights, the way to just forget about the night and follow beats, your beat within the town that almost never sleeps.

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