- La ce vă gândiți?
- La noi. La cum trece timpul. La noi - oamenii - și la Dumnezeu.
- Am observat că încercați să scrieți ceva!?
- Da. Încerc de multe ori să scriu despre viață. Scriu pentru a-mi trece timpul. (Se uită către aparatul meu de fotografiat:) Fiecare face ce poate cu timpul lui!
- Așa este. Sănătate!
- ... cu Dumnezeu!
Poate că vă întrebați de ce nu am încercat să-i arăt fața în fotografie; mi-am spus că nu vreau să intervin prea mult între gândurile lui și cer. Îi dădusem dintru început câțiva bani; nu mi-a spus dacă îi era foame, dacă îi era sete ori dacă voia o cafea. Tot ce voia să-mi spună era că încearcă să scrie ceva pentru a umple absența.
Absent, he was sometimes looking at the sky, sometimes at the ground. He had a beard like Methuselah, his hands full of veins as the leaves of a late fall season. In his bag around his feet he collected the time and his hopes. In his left hand a small notebook open on a blank page, in his right hand a ballpoint pen. I've tried to look him in his eyes...
- What are you thinking about?
- About us. About how time is passing by. About us - the people - and God.
- I've noticed that you're trying to write something!?
- Yes. I'm trying many a times to write about life. I write to let my time pass by. (He's looking at my camera:) Everyone does what they can with their time!
- That's true. Stay healthy!
- ... with God!
Maybe you're asking yourself why didn't I show his face in my photo; I've just told myself that I cannot interfere with his thoughts and the sky. I gave him some money from the first moment that I've seen him; and yet he didn't tell me if he was hungry, if he was thirsty or if he wanted to take a coffee. All that he wanted to tell me was about his trying to write something to fill the absence.
