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I stagger out from the lobby of my Fifth Avenue apartment at 4:50 AM. I must have caught New York, the city that never sleeps at an inopportune time, because it's sure as hell sleeping. Thirty degrees fahrenheit, and the wind whips around the corners of the buildings, which seem like giant rectangular prisms of warmth.

As I jog past Washington Square Park, I notice a coterie of homeless men huddled together against the side of a building. They have assembled a temporary lean-to on the side of the Stern School of Business building, and are bundled up from head to toe. As I run by, comparatively naked in my spandex, an irrational burst of jealousy hits me. How much would I give to be asleep and warm, surrounded by the companionship of fellow humans?

I ran through SoHo down Broadway as the hulking twin towers of the World Trade Center gradually approached until they swallowed up my view of the brightening sky.

On my way back, the city awoke, the sun was emerging, and Fifth Avenue was again the stomping ground of students, ladies with lap dogs and businessmen. And I forget about the homeless.

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