Mark was sitting awkwardly on his usual spot. Today he had a bit of a crumble on his fair hair. He was looking down more often than he usually does. He seemed uneasy to look up to the eyes of people passing by. He did not even say "hi', nor did he give the comforting feeling of "I'll look after your bike, don't worry". He was indifferent. It was fair. People were usually indifferent to Mark.
The Afr0-Caribbean guy walked in through the door as I was trying to pick up the mozzarella I had dropped on the floor. Hunger was getting to me and I was a bit dizzy by then. By the time I was at the mushrooms basket on the veggie shelves, the Afro-Caribbean went back on the street to collect some more rubbish. He did not look quite happy neither. Was it the weather?
It was a warm spring's night. Overcast as usual but warm, not as good as it was on the weekend. Possibly the strong headwind had them bow their heads? The guys in the local shop were on verbal abuse towards a drunken or a natural-born-tipsy lady. They were usually accommodating towards Mark and the Afro-Caribbean, though. Mark had a shelter under the tree from which he watched the knee-level cruelty.
I don't know the real name of Mark. I just made it up. I probably call him Mark now, because he clearly marks the spot where you can pass by him everyday. He does not ask for much, he is usually taken care of in one way or another. If anything, Mark has his place in this world. I didn't want to call the Afro-Caribbean guy anything, this has got nothing to do with any racial prejudice. He was a ruthless wanderer. Him and Mark were only a couple from the ruthless face of London, and of the warm ruthlesness that mixed so well with the warm spring breeze that touched my legs as Mark looked down once more. At knee-level.
4 comments:
Today, he was looking down again...weirdly dozing in front of the shop. But when he coincidentally woke up when I came out of the shop, it happened: he said his name. Adi. Don't know why he did it or why noone asked him that before...but in that second he said his name, I had to think of your story. That made me smile... :)
Did he have his dog with him? This then leaves me with the mystery of how you may have stumbled upon this very blog that talks about him. Of course this could also be a nice story in a completely different place, but nonetheless, the nice story of Adi =)
No, the dog has gone - wonder what happened to it. You know? At least you should know that there are people that follow your stories through the seasons without having to stumble upon them :)
=) Thank you, that is really flattering.
Well, then, you should go ask him, if you leave in the nearby. He may even tell you about his voluntary work at the cemetery and how he is waiting for a well-earned Scotland trip, should he work for 5 more weeks there. He is really excited...
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