I was waiting for the green man. One of the pedestrians at the opposite lane was stroking his hair with his left hand while clutching an attaché case and a hat on the other. He then fixed his violet tie, a beautiful contrast with his purple shirt. He checked his watch and, like me and the rest of the pedestrians during that one hot summer day in Tokyo, was waiting anxiously for the green man. He must be late for work, or for an interview, or for a business meeting. Finally, it lit up! All of us rushed to cross the road except for this man in violet tie and purple shirt. He froze just when he was about to cross the pedestrian lane, unmindful of the passing crowd, and projected a mysterious smile across his face. His tie, flapped to the left, did not get down despite the absence of wind. His hat dropped on the ground facing the sky as if waiting to catch some blessings from heaven. And the blessings came, in Japanese coins to be exact. He was a mime, stranded in his own invented world, mindless of the busy streets of Tokyo, least concerned of getting late for work or business meetings. I envied him for a moment, amazed by his oddity amidst this odd city, then I went my way for my job interview.
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