i walked up a side street i'd never been on before. nothing special, just houses and people doing yard work. it ended on rue notre dame ouest, right by the reptile emporium and the strip club and the dollar store.
i could see him from about a block away. he was sitting on some steps in front of a door painted dark copper. the paint was peeling.
he was an old bum. his hair was white and hung down around his head like long greasy fingers. he was laid back in a way that made you think he had it all figured out. he was propped up on his elbows and had his left leg crossed long over his right knee.
(people walking by had to make allowance for his dangling foot)
when i got closer i saw that his face had the rough skin of an alcoholic who spends all his time outdoors. his eyes were rolled up into the back of his head and he was muttering an indecipherable language just loud enough to hear if you strained and gave a shit to listen.
(he could've been possessed)
but he laid there on those old concrete steps and looked like a king; a man with more class then all the people that ignored him combined.
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