It is weekday Central
The bright sky can’t be seen
Towers are clawing here and there
Glasses are gleaming
Windows are glittering
Diamonds are glistening
Porsches are speeding chasing one another
on the crossroad, disappearing round the corner
Men armed with suitcases are dashing
Women in high heels are clattering
LV and Hermes bags are waving in the air with glint.

Along the stuffy winding street
An old man in rags stoops down
A gentleman wearing elegant black suit protrudes his leg
glancing at his blackberry
The old man polishes his Berluti diligently
until they look shiny like silver-gold
The gentleman smiles and flings him a 10-dollar coin
The old man picks it up from the ground
and continues his work in silence as if nothing bad has happened.

Far away come several Food and Environmental Officers
grasp the old man by his arm as if he is a mad man
The old man shivers, looks down and hardly stands
The officers shout at him for a valid licence
But he shakes his head and opens his hands
The officers cuff him and lead him away
leaving several pairs of A Testoni, Bally, Churches behind on the street
The old man turns around his head
looking at the waiting shoes
seeing them off like there is no more return.

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