Phase

Every morning now the subway spits me out into the city, winter is not giving up yet but I welcome the rush of cold air. I am greated by the sounds of blues coming from the solitary trumpet player as I reach the end of the escalator. The city is full of life, but I have yet to adjust my pace to it. I am energized though as I join the rush of daily commuters. I don't walk fast because I don't need to. Where I go it's not what time you get there that matters, it's what time you leave.