Monday, July 30, 2018 5:33 AM

On hot nights, when I pass his throne room, the man is always there. He sits on a plastic chair, perfectly centered in the space. A few square meters of scrappy lawn surrounds him. Grass doesn't grow well here. But the bushes on three sides are lush and beautiful. Yellow flowers bloom on those to his left, purple flowers to his right. Tree branches, hanging over and into the square, form a canopy with more flowers, some red and some white with pink near the stem. More flowers grow where the bushes meet the ground. He sits there silently, without a shirt. His khaki skin matches his shorts and sandals. His grey hair and mustache and his blue eyes contrast with them and complement the flowers. We rarely speak, other than a brief "Good evening," "A peaceful Sabbath," or "Good day." But I know he sees me pass, as he sees the cats, birds, and hedgehogs. I'm part of the ecology now.