There is a guy living nearby. I usually see his small studio on the ground floor when the weather is nice. The room is filled with books, in the center a desk with notebooks him working on. A globe is placed in the corner of the desk. His bed on the corner of the room. It is a sad picture I always felt. He had short hair some years ago, now longer. I never used to see him outside but recently he is there. Just across his house behind the closed tank station he is again with books. It remains so sad…
