Time and the City

Here's what I've observed so far:

It isn't true that New York doesn't sleep: it sleeps on Easter morning, between 9 and 10, when suddenly you hear the birds singing.

If you attempt to take the subway close to 9 am, you'll have to push your way into the train. But sometimes, you'll see through a door in a wagon that there is room. That is because someone is there, with their whole life in bags, sleeping the night away. Try to ignore the smell, and stand there. Small acts of kindness.

If you go out around 9:30-10 on a weekday, you'll see strollers, but rarely dogs.

If you go out around noon, the restaurants will be full of suits

Around 1pm, in Battery Park, there are dog walkers, nannies and nurses pushing wheelchairs or walking slowly holding the arm or the purse of old New Yorkers.

Between 2 pm and 3 pm, the city belongs to the kids: they get out of school, take the subway, walk with adults, explains the kind of day they had. They are not tired yet, too excited to be finally free in the city.

Around 5pm, you start seeing two things: people rushing to their night commute, and service cars. Lines and lines of black cars, waiting for CEOs and lawyers and the Chelsea Clinton of this city.

5:30, undergrounds, is full of people. People in suits and in uniforms, construction workers and nurses.

6 pm is the time of the dogs. They are everywhere, happy to be finally out of the apartment, running with joggers, sniffing garbage bags and fire hydrant.

And then another day starts, with its own routines: the people going to restaurants, to shows, to have a glass of wine. Those returning home with bags of groceries, or take-out. Laughters and discussions. Last minute plans made hastily on cellphones.

New York, in that, is like any other city: it may look chaotic, it may sound as if it is ever changing, but some things never do. People get up, go to work, eat.