 In the time before dawn, Broadway is an island of silence torn from the blazing neon, the midnight sun of the spectaculars. The river mists mingle with the vapors rising from manhole covers. Through them move the rejects, the stragglers, the wanderers, the men without sleep. One detaches himself, scavenges in a trash bin choked with the remnants of night, finds nothing, moves on to the next. It's the time of the endless search, the restlessness of an anguish you can't understand on the street built for the purpose.