I slept until the cat tried to drive me insane, by yowling until it had taken possession of my soul. Too many nights of little sleep, and days of over stimulation, had clouded most of the ideas of what I was supposed to be doing here. The one goal I had left was to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. It was very early when I set out, not knowing how far a walk it was from Soho to Brooklyn. I charged myself with several espressos and a ginseng and soda water, from a neighborhood joint, and walked through the warm golden fog. It was thick and it softened the iron buildings. Even the occasional sighting of another pre-dawn person was transformed. During the previous night, when I was lost and couldnít find my way back to the apartment, every lone soul was a threat. Now theyíre all hung-over missionaries making their way through the Hudson River fog. Next