it’s the first week of spring, and the warm weather makes everything feel magical. soho is teeming with the tourists shopping and people on their lunchbreaks.

there’s a guy driving down grand street, windows open all the way, blaring that journey song. you can tell he’s in a good mood, even though the traffic is, as always, terrible. but he squeezes through the intersection before the light changes, just barely clearing mercer. then the light at broadway turns green, and he’s gone.

several moments later, I hear someone belt out a block away, “don’t stop, believin’!”