Tag Archive for 'city stories'

It’s a busy road leading into and out of the city, especially so during rush-hours. And it’s the evening rush-hour. I had decided to walk to the post office at the near end of the city instead of cycling, and was coming back after making a round of the city towards the close of the day, popping into a discount-bookshop and picking up three books for a fiver. I had failed to notice him from afar, but see him from just far enough to walk along looking at him. He sits on a in-memory-of bench by the roadside, one of so many that have popped up recently – may be the city council have finally realised they have purpose after all, and that this city also gets a couple of months of good weather and sunshine. The bench faces the roadside, and the road is full of rush-hour traffic. No wonder the man sits looking sideways instead, avoiding the road, and hence the eye-contact with the motorists who wait for the traffic to flow, with windows down and their hands hanging outside, searching for a cool breeze. He has a cigarette in between his fingers, and he’s puffing the smoke every few minutes – you can tell he wants that cigarette to last long. but you also feel he’ll lit a new one as soon as he finishes the one he’s smoking. He has his bicycle, an old, grim-looking one, with dents and rust in every joints, and chains, and gears, parked by the bench – the bench helping the bike stand upright. A plastic bag with some shopping hangs by the handle – a bunch of greens, a bunch of coriander, a pack of red lentils, some ginger on top of other items, which will probably tell you his origins with even more confidence had they been visible. I wonder how naked it all seems – finding someone’s origins from the shopping items they carry back home. I admit his skin and his clothes are give-aways too, but those food-items just put the confidence in one’s guesswork.
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