WORKS ON DIGITAL PAPER

Spring Street Manhattan

There was an Egyptian hot dog vendor with clear eyes on the corner of Spring and Broadway who smiled and said hello everyday. His hair was salt and pepper. He was shorter and his eyes, as I said, were very clear, very light in color. Once, he showed me photos of his son and his daughter. At the time they were five and seven. A month before my son was born, he returned to Egypt to see his children. I have not seen him since. There were a couple fellows from Mali I used to work with. They spoke a French I couldn't understand. One had a son back home and a wife. He would show me their pictures. When I was done with my iMac, I gave it to them to send to a cousin in Mali to start an internet cafe. I see them every now and again. We always hug. The unmarried one got married here in New York. The married one got married, again apparently, here in New York. In San Francisco I worked with a Turk who had the same last name as a town on the Black Sea. He was very grumpy and had a squashed face. He had an American wife who, I think, disliked him immensely. At the same time I worked with a Filipino man who had a son named Dante and a daughter named Angelica. He had very good energy.