I was reading a dark novel at my table. An old gentleman was seated by his daughter in the table beside mine. We nodded to each other. He was not very tall, he was slim in his neat T-shirt and blue jeans. He looked very quiet and loving. His eyes were so bright. I thought to myself, gee, he really reminded me of someone. I could picture someone I knew now to look like him in about 50 years. That was a lovely picture. It made me smile. A tall strong young man had been talking to the air angrily for a long time since I sat there. He sat in a table near the door, his coffee must have turned cold. He looked good but he was troubled. I think he needed to talk to someone. Anyone was better than the air! The air was dead.The old man stood up and walked towards the door. He asked the young man something. Maybe he asked him, "do you know where the post office is?" So they talked for a minute. Well, actually anything should do. The dead air was broken. It made the moment good. In a while, the old man's daughter came back. They went out of the building together. The young man left with his cold coffee. Another guy sneaked in and took the young man's seat. It was funny, he began to peel off paper piece by piece off a Metro paper, folded it and inserted it into the inner pocket of his suit. He seemed to enjoy it. That was fine... :-) I have no point to make at the moment. I remember that scene till now, because I feel like that old man. I wonder in 50 years, how I would look like___ that is if I am still alive, how I would view the world and people, how I would view the past of my life, I hope it was not with too many regrets. If there are some, I hope to find ways to mend it before it is too late now.
