1. Somehow, I’ve joined the apparitions who wake up before dawn and drift over the mostly empty sidewalks and streets of the city.
2. I have no idea where everyone else is going, but it’s not to the park. Besides the rocks, the trees, and the flowers, there’s never anyone here. The humidity, usually so oppressive, gives the air a silver sheen. It’s not exactly silent — there are birds and the rustling of leaves — but it’s silent in a way that leaves room for thoughts and ideas that might otherwise be lost in the press of the working day.
3. At this hour, in this park, I can watch a parade of roses.
4. Here the path is easy to see, which I try to remember later on, when I’ll be floundering to take a step.
