Street people

On a recent afternoon walk into town, I bumped into a lot of PPP's: people with personal problems.

A man was walking along the road mumbling incoherently to no one in particular. He was carrying a beer bottle, and everyone who approached him made a dash to cross the street.

A woman was being dragged into a toy store by a mentally handicapped teenage boy who was taller and stronger than her. She was promising him that they would come back later once they had finished the job they had originally set out for.

Two women wearing very high heels were walking very slowly side-by-side, arms linked, on a very narrow road in the middle of town, discussing what they would like to buy - it had to be new - for the wedding they were invited to on the forthcoming weekend. They probably couldn't hear me walking behind them because their chatter, combined with the sounds from their heels clonking hard on the pavement, was much louder than my soft sole sneakers, so I had to wait till the road widened slightly to get away from them. They were so lucky not to be on a time limit of one hour to walk from one side of town to the other and back again in order to pick up their children from their clubs.

And that was life on a Tuesday afternoon some time last month in the town of Hania.