A man sits and waits. He ruffles his sleeve up his arm, checking the time on his wristwatch. He pulls his sleeve back down. Impatiently he glances to either side of him. He stands on the pavement, looking like he needs to go somewhere but also nowhere at all. He doesn’t move, in fact he stands there for minutes on end. Waiting for something, possibly. Waiting for a person, a moment, a memory, who knows? He continuously glances to the left and right of him, checking his wristwatch every two minutes, as if time may have slowed down or sped up. It seems like he may never leave that spot, but then, with a grand sigh, he turns to his right and walks away from the spot where he stood. The spot where he stood, where others stood before, isn’t it grand, don’t you want more?