A moment at dawn.
Its 5.00am, as I walk briskly to the subway stairs, a guy carefully scans me from the corner of his eye. I've woken up after a long restful sleep I'm calm, the day looks beautiful even from the colours of the dawn and the spring time noises of birds chirping on the trees. Now the morning noises have changed and the bird calls are a standard sound track to my early morning routine. Spring is slowly arriving, ever so quietly the trees are budding and the landscape is changing and New Yorkers are daring to go out, walk hand in hand, showing their skin freeing themselves from their armor of winter, smiling a little bit more now that the air caresses their skin ever so slightly and freeing their bodies from the deep winter sleep. I walk down the steps of the subway, as figures not quite awake wait patiently for the train to arrive. It's that early witching hour, and no one is quite there except for that special early morning crowd, my comrades my morning warriors. T