He bowls down the road, pants riding low. One hand stuffed down the front, the other cradling a roll up. Hood up and face to the slabs.
I ponder what his thoughts are and where his destination may lie.
He pulls a mobile from his man-bag, he alternates talking into one end and listening to the opposite one. I wonder what he is saying, probably 'just chatting breeze'.
His open laying trainers look impossible to keep on although his feet barely leave the paving as he progresses.
Is he stoned, is he safe. Does he love or is he loved by others, a girl a child?
Does he work, his demeanor suggests not, at least not the sort of employment I acknowledge.
I find I have a very limited understanding of young adults, are all fifty somethings in the same boat.
The most poignant and interesting question occurs to me, is this young man happy?
This question took a second to ask in my mind and the same to evaporate as the guy removes his hood and I am acutely aware that
He's not you