tinmen

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It is 11:44 pm on April 5th. I heard aluminium clattering in the street, so I took a peek: a man digging through the garbage.

He was looking for cans, sorting them, opening and closing bags and garbage bags, all by himself, corner after corner.

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him what he would do with all that, what he could do with so much. I was embarrassed, stuck. My wife and son were sleeping, I couldn’t invite someone to be here at this hour, especially him, a can collector. And that bothers me.

What did he do? What did he do to not have an open door?

And then he was gone. Maybe this week I’ll open the door… Or not. Maybe this week I won’t question the same things? Let’s face it, I’m not opening the door. Are you?

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