Anything can happen in a New York minute. Taxis speed, traffic halts. Lovers kiss, friends fight. Ladies strut, guys drool. Deals are made, fortunes are lost. Coffee brews, cocktails are shaken. Broadway sings, waiters bitch. The subway rumbles, the city lights twinkle. Buildings stand tall, towers collapse. Manhattan pulses to the rhythm of its own unique heartbeat. I stand on what Americans call the sidewalk, my cheeks tingling from the punishing wind. It’s -14 degrees. My fingers refuse to work the light meter on my ancient Pentax. Click. An image is captured. Anything can happen in a New York minute.