IN THE RESTAURANT
Our table in the corner is so well positioned that I can see and hear almost everything that is going on in the
restaurant. Straight ahead on the big screen, a handsome man touches the side of a beautiful car, his lips whispering the words of love, while on the smaller TV, hung above, a pitcher throws the ball, silently. The music
covers the hum of the bar; there are people huddling and chating. Smiles; eyes are gleaming - it's Friday. Here,
in the main area, the patrons sit at their tables and wait for their orders. Some are already eating. A waiter passing by holds a tray underarm; it's big and round. The guy in dirty jeans and his white shirt looking so bedraggled, one of the locals, tries to dig out a pack of cigarettes from a machine. He turns round stealthily, is someone watching him? He hits the side of the machine. People at the tables watch the lottery on the screens. Behind me the band is setting up their instruments: the drums, electric guitars - soon they will play. Sszzzzchhh - the hot frying pan glides above the heads, it's someone's dinner. Smells good. It's a place where something is happening right now.