The rhythm of the sidewalk was the only thing Tony could count on. At twenty-two, with his hair feathered just right and a paint-stained shirt that felt more like a costume than a uniform, he walked through the Brooklyn morning as if the concrete were a stage [1].
"Stayin' alive," he sang softly, stepping off the curb and into the flow of the city [1]. bee_gees_stayin_alive_lyrics
He stopped at a corner, catching his reflection in a deli window. "Life goin' nowhere, somebody help me," he whispered, the lyrics catching in the back of his throat [1, 3]. He smoothed his collar. The world was trying to break him down, but he had the wings of his shoes and the rhythm of the Bee Gees to keep him upright. The rhythm of the sidewalk was the only
He felt the eyes on him—the "music loud and women warm"—even though the morning air was actually quite brisk [1]. He’d been kicked around since he was born, or at least it felt that way [1]. His boss at the hardware store was always shouting, his father was always disappointed, and the city was always loud. But when he moved like this, he was untouchable. He stopped at a corner, catching his reflection