In A Foreign Land

So there I was (look, there I am!) walking along a quiet path in a foreign city (should it remain nameless, gentle reader?), when all of a sudden this man came up to me. He was, I believe homeless. Either that, or a wizard. Because in this country there's something magical in the air. Either that, or just a lot of sea air. Comes up to me awfully quickly, seemingly out of nowhere.

So when he asks me if I can spare any change (or the local variant of that request) I dig in my pockets and strike up a conversation. (I have found that often people like to talk when they are lonely, and this guy looked like he could use a chat.) He tells me he's from G____, and although I had difficulty understanding his strong accent, I get that he's been estranged from his family for about 13 years. Either that, or there was something about farm life and corn in his past.

I ask him if I can by him a sandwich and some tea. And we go into this little cafe about a block from where this picture was taken. He's a little smelly, but I've been around worse. He is talking a mile a minute and I'm picking up maybe 2/3 of what he says (the accent you know) when all of a sudden he gets this look of great fear in his eyes, starts up like a startled rabbit, and zips out the door like he's just seen a, a what, a ghost?

No, it's like he's in some spy movie and he's suddenly seen James Bond on his tail and takes off.

Either that, or he's slightly paranoid.

Gentle reader, prepare yourself for what comes next...