Maps

Sweaty, with a shirt of questionable color, the vendor stops at every table in the café. Despite his energetic gesticulations, the café-customers are so engrossed in their mundane conversations that they neither see him nor hear him. Hidden in the shade of my umbrella, I follow him with my eyes, a straw between my lips. What does he sell? Squinting, I focus my attention on his bag: glossy papers rolled as carpets cuddle inside. With continents and oceans! I have The World, Europe and Bulgaria but have always wanted… I run towards him. Excuse me, do you have North America?