I wake to the inky darkness that is this morning. To me it is 6:30 but to most of the folks around me it is 3:30 and they sleep on, dreaming their dreams. But I am not alone. This city is a financial hub and there are more than just I who are getting up to be in the city when the markets open on the east coast. We shower and prepare for the day, the inklings of stray consciousness in the city, the harbringers of the day.

No city truly sleeps, no matter how small or large. There are always those who are either working away during the night or who just cannot sleep for one reason or another. Still, the night is when the city rests, just as we should. Its inhabitants providing its dreams and hopes for the future, plans for the present. The joys and sorrows of each individual person feeding the city on a daily basis.

I make my way to the BART station, stopped by a reporter who wants to know my opinion on parking at BART. I smile at her, someone who provides information to the rest of the city's body, and politely explain that I'm from out of town but thanks for the offer. Then, it is time to go up the stairs, the sky still dark, dawn a long ways off. As I wait on the BART platfrom to catch a train into the City, I wonder about the people around me. There's a couple of guys in suits with WSJ who appear to be brokers. There's a woman with a mysterious smile who seems wrapped up in her thoughts, maybe returning home after a late night valentine snuggle? There's a couple of folks in jogging suits who probably have real suits in their bags to put on after their work out.

The train shows up and we all get on. It's not quite crowded today, mostly because I've missed the first couple of trains that contain the serious brokers and bankers who need to be in the City at 5am. *smile* I'm happy to settle for 5:30. As the train moves along, stopping at the various points, I watch people getting on and off the train: someone dressed for janitorial duty... a security guard. A woman gets on at one stop and heads straight for another woman and they start chatting. They've obviously been riding together for a long time and they work together, based on the comments drifting over the heads of other passengers back my way.

The train passes through the Berkeley hills, a dark tunnel that echoes the cries of the wheels through the still of the night and then it is out and we're passing through Oakland. From West Oakland, when it's light, you can see the huge container cranes that served as inspiration for George Lucas' ATAT walkers. But its still dark, to dark to see even their gleaming white.

Now the train passes down into a tunnel, the wheels crying more loudly as we descend, ears popping until the train levels out. We're under the Bay now, a staggeringly huge amount of water above. It's a commonplace occurence to the riders but it is still an amazing accomplishment to me. After a couple of minutes the train begins to rise again though it won't come out above ground. It makes it's first stop in the city and most of the suits get off. So do I.

No part of the city truly sleeps but each part truly wakes as the day progresses. The financial district, keeping time to a dance directed on the east coast, is one of the first. The deserted streets slowly filling and emptying as people move from BART entrance to their buildings.

I make my way slowly around the blocks. There are many homeless here. There are many back home too, but they are far more evident here. Back home, with the temperature freezing nightly, they can't lie outdoors as easily as they do here. It is a problem that many have failed to solve and I will do no better today so I move on, careful not to disturb their slumbers.

Denny's is open 24 hours a day so I grab breakfast. By the time I get out of there, the sun has started to color the sky ever so slightly and the number of pedestrians and cars is picking up, ever so slightly.

The City wakes.

And I watch it wake.