A Vignette.

Sitting in the glaring sun, he wasn’t such a vision.
Fat and fortyish, the wicker chair in which he sat appeared not manufactured for a person of his stature.
The glass topped table reflecting the high afternoon sun, displayed an overflowing ashtray.
The smouldering havana cigar lying next to two empty beer glasses while he held on tightly to a glass full of an alcholic beverage.
The monkey sitting at his right shoulder, his eyes gave the appearance of being glased over as though he had partaken of some of the liquour.
Then picking up his cigar, the couple standing close by, seeing him struggle with the silver zippo lighter, offered him a box of matches.
The conversation was quite brief, he thanked them for their gesture they replied “nada” and moved on.
Checking his watch he thought, 16:30 time for a siesta.
The people in the village of Mijas were now familiar with his movements.
He had learned to live in this place, people also got used to his tone, he’d be heard to say in conversation “You learn about a country by living in it, experiencing its cultures, mixing with the larger community and in general engaging and talking to its people”
(c) Chris Black. December 2017.

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