2 AM eyes look up and down the block; only the fire from a glass pipe can be seen. After the last inhale, the blue flame disappears like magic. Like vampires they retreat into pitch darkness. High rise buildings tower over women of the night with torn stockings. The bitter cold outside combined with strong cigarette smoke, causes redness of the eyes. An old man drinks a bottle of beer, and in-between his raspy lament he cries. The 2 train stops and continues on its way to 149th street. The homeless seek warmth in building hallways so they can sleep. Children of the night in crowded bedrooms from tiny eyes peep. Snow starts to fall and covers all like a white shawl. Heroin addicts inject black tar that would make the devil crawl. Empty buses roll down White Plains road with lights off in ghostlike form. A hole–in–the–wall bar offers a strange silence with unfriendly faces that are listless. The darkness stalks from under the subway overpass; the sound of old train tracks are haunting. Snow keeps falling.

Large rats move in the shadows undeterred and stake their claim. A woman talks to herself loudly, because she is in pain. The wind that blows on the train platforms chills the bones; it is cold. Tired eyes cast off the thousand yard star. Eyes gaze at the lights of an approaching train and are caught in the glare. The gritty winters are harsh, and even the poor find a way to have at least one decent coat to wear. The snow that falls over the Bronx River with bordering trees, makes it look like a winter wonderland. A white pigeon sits atop of an old Lower Manhattan street light. Lady Liberty stands still over New York Harbor with a torch in her hand.