For weeks now we’ve blown hot and cold. Though these temperate words don’t really do it justice. We’ve scolded and poured larva and frozen each other with Siberian freezes. A day or two ago I heard an old woman say he’s finally got that monkey off of his back. Here’s the hectic concourse to chaotic street to cycle path where someone always forgets and steps onto the wrong side of the line. A Big Issue vendor in his official red vest and matching red baseball cap stands outside the sliding doors where people issue forth in various states of calmness or confusion or confusion masked with calmness. It’s the one’s that hesitate that he’s interested in. Those that don’t immediately set off with clear eyed conviction. In a loud, convivial kind of voice, he’ll say can I help you as if that was his real job. Once I heard him say, manners don’t cost anything. Where does he come from? What’s his story? Can you really trust him?