Yesterday we were having a gyros pita at the Markthalle in Marheinekeplatz. And two Mythos beers and some green beans with goat cheese. It was a moody, rainy summer day. A man walked up to the counter with €20 in coins. He had probably collected them begging in the streets. The big Greek man at the counter pulled out a €20 bill. There was a system here that both were aware of, a familiarity, a deal that had been struck between mutual beneficiaries. You want small change. I want a big bill. The man was the kind who had a lonely, erratic energy about him. The kind that gave you the impression that if you made eye contact, he’d find a way to prolong that human interaction as long as possible. “Schönes Wetter…” he rambled. And about how lovely it was and how he hopes that it’ll keep up. I couldn’t tell if he was being earnest or sarcastic. The big Greek man at the cashier averted his eyes. Eventually, after he got his €20, he slowly rambled off to the other end of the counter and down through the Markthalle. Sadly, it all felt very comfortable for all parties involved.
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