<p><font face="Verdana">They say the city never sleeps. It does. Just before dawn you can hear it snore. Light hangs in the air， directionless， not yet pressed into rays. The smell of a hidden sea soaks through stone. The streets themselves have that booming emptiness of a shell held to the ear. Everyone is dreaming. It’s when I began to wander， that time in between.” <br><br></b>For Eve， newly arrived from a religious colony in the heartland， the sidewalks of New York aren’t conveyors of humanity， they are sacred symbols， holy places. In the early morning， when her shift as an after-hours barmaid ends， she roams the deserted neighborhoods. It is a pilgrimage of sorts. Like so many before her， Eve has come to Manhattan to find herself among the lights and noise and </font></p>
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