I. The kind of guy who starts a deep conversation with complete strangers in a coffee shop.
That's what he's doing now. The young woman sitting on the couch next to him is laughing but trying to hide it. She is writing. Is she a journalist? A student? She asks a question. The man answers. He is dark-skinned and wearing clothes stained with paint. His baseball cap is crumpled on his head as if it doesn't quite fit right. He is talking enthusiastically, with his hands. He enjoys talking. The young woman is a good listener, but much more reserved, only subtle movements show her engagement.
II. Three old, white men.
On the opposite side of the room are two old men with newspapers. They know each other, that much is obvious, they carry on a conversation about everything and nothing. Politics and a crossword puzzle. One last man, another acquaintance perhaps, sits at the table nearby reading a book of poetry, a green coat is thrown across the seat next to him. He has the lightest hair of all the men, and he's wearing casual clothing. He occasionally tears his attention away from his book, and, not moving his eyes, makes a comment on the conversation of the other two men.
The conversation between the two talking men wanes, and the man with the book puts it down. It's finished. He turns to the four women at the other end of the large table.
III. Comparing the passing of a tax bill to sausage.
"You don't watch legislature made, just like you don't watch sausage made, you just get the result." Says the old man with the book.
"But if the sausage is poisoned," says one of the women at the other end of the large table, "you have to fix it, and that’s what we’re trying to do." She makes a gesture to the three other women at the table. She is also old, but not quite as old as the three men, she has short hair and small oval glasses.
"But like that sausage, you won't know it's poisoned until you get it."
"We saw the poison being added," said the woman. "We know it's poisoned." The man with the book put on his green coat and left.
IV. little boys and little girls
The enthusiastic man and the young writing woman are still chatting away. The young woman is smiling, but trying to hide it, she is amused. The man turns to the two old men with new papers and says, "what are little girls made of?"
The two men reply, "sugar and spice and everything nice."
"What are little boys made of?"
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