It is morning. I slept in complete comfort; relaxed by a rare opportunity to live the good life. I shall shower with hot water and cleanse myself well. I leave this hotel room a different man, yet the same. Back to normal. Whatever that means.

My normal is that of a vagabond, traveling from portal to portal, really going nowhere. I walk the city again, looking at the sun reflecting off steel buildings and bodegas opening for the morning rush. The stores owned by the Chinese with their tables of food and various sundry. Deodorant sticks, cologne, soap, cans of soda, cigarettes, and so-on. The air is crisp. Morning in Manhattan; always beautiful. 

I have coffee and the New York Times in front of me. I read restaurant reviews, book reviews, op-ed pieces of  how our nation is falling apart; it’s always falling apart, has been since the pilgrims arrived. It’s very American to fall apart. As hard as we try, we always screw it up. We are a land of missed opportunity, always looking for the one shot to put us on top and failing miserably. I smile as I fold my paper and continue my walk. We are, after all, just a lottery ticket away from great fortune.