Sword Swallowing

Almost certainly the lonely, pained look flashed just then from the Kuma Jasna lookalike opposite—Greek apparently—conveyed her wonder at a fellow able to sit so contentedly like that day after day with his books and pens. How in the heck does he do that, like a circus performer? During her sits at the Oromo place the lady smoked over a dozen cigarettes, always throwing the butts over her shoulder, her raspy voice betraying the habit. What was nice to see was the evident affection of her young Asian worker in their regular meetings at the table. Recall here too the young chap sitting nights with Rohim and his wife at G. Serai, not long outta the pen and attempting to stay clean, theatrically remarking more than once at encounters, The man who likes to be alone. In the last couple months before the departure the chap had back-slid a little, Rohim revealed, without sounding too judgemental about it. Though the lad had managed solitariness more than enough himself, someone who liked it was a whole other kettle of fish.