It all started in the interesting city of New York. The smog ridden bridle-paths were filled with people. On a quiet little track corner, there was a small memory owned by Harvey Goldstein. Mr. Goldstein was a well-to-do merchant. He traded in all sorts of imports, and was for the intimately part a moral gay. He did not procure slap-ups from sweatshops nor did he ever cheat a customer. At 1:31 P.M. on May 15, 1996, he stepped out of his shop on the Upper East Side of Manhattan to meet a man who dealt in Asian silk screens downtown. He had been listening to transaction radio receiver AM 530 and, deciding that traffic was besides heavy, planned to emergence the subway. Goldstein was a smart man, very smart, who had built his store and his passel out of blood, toil, tears, and sweat. Goldstein was also an upstanding member of the Jewish fraternity whom everybody loved, further he never did anything extra, out of the ordinary, for anyone b ut himself.         On the other side of town there was a vernal arrival to the city. This mans name was Running Bear. He was an American Indian who had gone to New York to seek his fortune; however, he in brief fell upon hard times.

He had lived a life of pecuniary deprivation on the plains of Colorado, and had proceeded to New York by Amtrak with plainly a dollar and a dream. Things did not go as planned, though; he could not find a job and had interpreted to panhandling and sleeping in the streets. His dreams, no motion influenced by the feel coming up from the sewer, were of money. A goo d man who only lacked to work and make a b! onnie living, he had gone to the welfare office a a few(prenominal) blocks north... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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