he was again there sitting on the gutter raising his hands to greet us. this is another morning for a miracle, he shouts. i asked why. he says it is always so whenever we visit him. he is quite glib.
he reached for what he called his "most precious possessions" from his plastic grocery bag and showed me this picture with a list of songs he used to sing. he used to be a club singer until mt. pinatubo and, i suspect, old age displaced him. but his manners are still stellar.
i told him that i have been blogging him on internet. he responded, "sorry, i don't have internet to see it."
