The man sits on a corner table
by the front glass window of the coffee house.


He reads, sips his coffee, pause and looks outside.


The man has white hair, a black jacket 
 and a peaceful appearance.


The man stops reading his book
 and he thinks about existence and life.


“There are no victims in this life, only volunteers.”


“I am not who I think I am; I am not who you think I am.


Who I really am is that man I see in the mirror when I am alone.”


”My problem is my thinking, drinking alcohol is my solution.”


He remains at the corner table of the cafe.


Nevertheless, no ones see him; he died last night.


Only I see him because I am with him or perhaps, I am like him.


No one would ever know, because I am not who you think I am.


Outside the cafe the trees are covered with white flowers blossoms.

-Hector 3/30/2017 USA