There’s an old man who shuffles down the street each day collecting pieces of trash. The local people greet him as he walks by. They raise a hand as they laze in coffee shop chairs and call him ông as he does his rounds. As the sun blazes down and while everyone seeks the shade, the old man continues to work. His movements are slow, each step seems weighed down and measured out as he makes his way along the road. Every time he finds a piece of trash – a discarded bottle, an unused bag, a beer can – he kneels down and gives it a little shove with his cane. The old man stops for a while longer, turning over the trash as if in deep thought, before pushing himself back to his feet. Whenever he gathers up two or three pieces of trash he ambles over to…
