Everyday around noon, a man comes into this cafe with a book. He orders a double-shot espresso without sugar or milk. Then he rolls two cigarettes and reads. This has become a everyday thing now. In such busy lunch hour and he sits alone in a corner, practices his daily routine.
The owner of the cafe knows him, everyone works in the cafe knows him but never more words are exchanged between them. He is just another customer and they are just doing their jobs. No one else knows how he feels in such clamorous disarray. At times he appears pensive, grins esoterically. Are coffee and cigarettes his omens to ratify the implosion? Or is he suffused with contentment that one others can taste?
Others look at him as he enters; others look at him as he leaves. Not vice-versa. Maybe it is because he looks outsized. He is outsized. I am a customer; I act no different than the rest, seeped in our hypotheses on his perpetual secular rite. Yet he remains concealed in his robust shell. Impossible for the outside.
2 comments:
Where does this scene happen? is it in Berlin or iregnwo? Ich dinke that you go there nur to see Der Mann? das ist ein Routine for you too? I like this is scene. it muss be a wunderbar one!!!
it was at strasburg:-)
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