Manhattan before 7am on a Saturday has a rather comforting quietness to it.

The streets are as empty as they will ever be.  As the sun rises the new day shines and reflects off of the glass facades of buildings lining the streets.  The morning still cool, but warm under the rays of the new day.

I made it to the class that brought me into Manhattan so early in the first place.  A two hour reality check in my journey to that bakery I keep thinking about.   After two intense hours of what to expect when you are expecting to produce a successful bakery, I got hungry.

I ambled further downtown while in deep thought over what I just learned.  I found myself at Balthazar.  Sufficiently convinced that I needed to start saving 5 years ago, I opted for some take away at the bakery next door. It was a much more affordable option to the super expensive restaurant laden with tourists.  Asparagus and mushroom croissant and orange brioche (couldn’t help myself) in hand, I headed back over to Washington Square Park to nosh and people watch.

As I dug into the asparagus, mushroom and cheese wrapped in a deliciously buttery croissant, the piano music started on a path nearby.

Mozart and a late breakfast on a park bench on a beautiful Saturday morning.

For that moment, life was good.