I’m listening to another one of pops low baritone stories, hearing him relive the days of old as he regales the entire shop with a tale they’ve all heard many times before. I’m by the window, losing another game of chess, as the sun pours in on another hot day in the city, content to waste my hours away in what should be one of the safest places, and the most enlightening—we’re Switzerland. I’m hanging out in Harlem Paradise, a club with a reputation, where business happens on more levels than the average eye can see and every conversation is worth paying close attention to. Walking from the NYPD station, down past Crispus Attucks, I listen to the talk of the streets, hear Harlem breathe. It’s important what the people say, to hear what is really going on in this neighborhood.