In a city like many others there was a park that kept a peculiar history.
It counts among the habitual visitors to this site the story of event in which they said to have seen during a time without nobody knows how or from where an old man who always sat in one of the benches of the park, always, after the dusk, just at the beginning of the twilight of the night leaving only the light of the lamps that illuminated the park.
There he was, calm patient in an elegant but worn suit and a small glass in his hand asking for some coins. However, he was dressed elegantly, although his clothes, his trousers, his shirt and a dark coat were worn, along with his inevitable hat, just as grandparents wore at that time when they were young was enigmatic to see someone with some personal care ask for coins, he was not a vagabond, but he did not have the look of being someone with money either. And only at night was seen, nobody remembers having seen it in the morning.
Every day just at nightfall his presence was there, on the bench where the light of the lamps in the park could not illuminate and vanish the gloom of the night. It became almost another element of the park so after a certain time, it went unnoticed among those who crossed daily, almost invisible to the hectic pace of people passing by without caring, focused on their own worlds and routines, always in a hurry.
Merci pour la lecture!
Nous pouvons garder Inkspired gratuitement en affichant des annonces à nos visiteurs. S’il vous plaît, soutenez-nous en ajoutant ou en désactivant AdBlocker.
Après l’avoir fait, veuillez recharger le site Web pour continuer à utiliser Inkspired normalement.