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New York at five in the morning, when even dreams are still asleep. Yellow taxis sail along the wet asphalt like golden fish in a black ocean. Skyscrapers stand like black watchtowers, but their windows are already lighting up — someone isn't sleeping, someone is just beginning, someone is just finishing the night. A red antenna on the roof burns like the last cigarette of the city that never sleeps. The air is so thick with energy that you can taste it on your tongue: coffee, rain, gasoline and freedom.
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