He descends down the stairwell like a dumbwaiter down its chute. Having taken rest in his small box of a hotel room, the bed barely fitting within its walls, he’s thirsty and eager to explore.
People speaking on cellular phones make faces. On bicycles they grimace. On the tram they smile. Expressionless while walking.
The man moves without any sense of direction, observing everyone and everything he sees. Individuals draw him toward their space: musicians to their sound, merchants to their wares, beggars to their cups.
A boat floats beneath crooked buildings:
His thirst reaching unbearable levels, he chooses a random shop. A quick peek at the menu. “Orange juice, please.”
A barista nods and turns around and makes it fresh on a small machine. He gulps it all down without stopping for breath, pays and goes on his way.
For a while all he notices are Asian and Argentine restaurants:
A man approaches him with arm extended. “Excuse me, are you on facebook?” he asks.
“No, excuse me, please, are you on facebook?”
“Do you mean right now?”
“Ha ha, very funny,” the man hands him a card, “please ‘like’ our page when you have time.”
He accepts the card and continues roaming the streets. They have everything here, he thinks. Every culture, every virtue, every vice. Some of it’s free, some of it’s for sale, but it’s all here and available. We can take it or leave it.