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The folks call me The Stinky.
When I walk, the soil swamps into my feet.
I wander the enormity of the parks.
The deserted streets.
I always visit the folks.
Donato and Mustafa are cool.
They like wine.
Sometimes when I arrive they can't go out to open the door.
They're busy people.
They watch me through the window and go on with their business.
I enjoy visiting them.
They bear me.
They know me.
I know the way to get in.
I know what I'm supposed to do.
I like doing stuff for them.
I have my place, where I don't disturb them.
I don't speak. This way they let me stay.
I listen to their chat.
When I want wine they don't share it with me.
Or else they get angry.
Mustafa enraged.
Me, sitting, listening to them.
In the park I meditate while I'm alone.
Donato and Mustafa are funny.
They play me jokes.
And they play videogames.
I sit there to watch them.
I like to watch them laughing.
I like helping them.
If their shoes get dirty I clean them.
If they're going to smoke I fire their cigars.
I try to make them comfortable.
We watch the TV.
They eat cookies.
Sometimes I think they look at me too.
But I don't know.
In a dream...
...when I walk down the stairs...
...and I see them there...
...I imagine I fall...
...I spin and fall...
...but they don't see me...
...cause I'm something else.