The old man is sitting in the crowd. On his blue denim bag, which he rests in his lap, he is solving crossword puzzles. From the „Fülles” or something else that is actual. A small sphere in the crowd, as his neighbor is following his never halting stream of letters in the rubrics. Suntanned skin or is this just the green smear from the subway. He is looking for another page. Or just the solutions? A moment ago, he looked at me. I am keeping my focus on him, but without sharing a glance. The crowd is changing. The neighbor is switching back and forth between the lettered rows and my hands writing these lines. He found the solution, or is it a fresh start? Scans the surroundings for a second. Are we there yet?
Grey eyebrows under his black hat. Under his down-folded chin the blue symmetry of his coat. He stands up. Wobbles away. Gets off. Crosswords in clenched in his hands, a blue denim bag hanging from his shoulders. I will ride on till the next stop.