I waited for months, trying to find the right time to write this. It is a Sunday afternoon. I am sitting in an open cafe in Griffith called ‘Trails’. Trees everywhere. Benches with people talking to each other. Kids playing in the sun. A steady commotion of voices, footsteps, laughter. Yet, this isn’t noise. There is a sort of calm with this breeze. My books are on the table and my iced coffee glistens in the sun. And then, there is Albert.
70 year old Albert. Sitting in Trails all by himself. A smile on his face. Holding on to his cup of coffee. White hair, a pair of glasses and a light sweater. Observing people, like I am. I sit in front of him and he smiles. I ask if it is okay to share the table. And he immediately nods. Continue reading “Thakuma”