wtorek, 9 lutego 2010

his son... Andrew Pash

One particular morning the elderly man set off on his travels two hours later than usual. He was very elegantly dressed: a navy suit, a cream tie, a long black overcoat. On this occasion he walked slowly, he stood and glanced around at all those people scurrying by. Some inclined their head in greeting but he did no respond. Some in their hurry obstructed him but he did not turn on them but instead focused his raging eyes on the pavement. He reacted angrily just once; a youth running past had trod on the old man’s foot. He reached out to grab the culprit but the boy had vanished beyond the hedge. The old timer muttered something to himself and continued onwards to the bus stop. After a few minutes wait the 309 service to the red towers slowly arrived. He waited for the closed doors to open and then boarded.

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