The Offering

A messy flop of hair on his head arranged in some ridiculous fashion which in no way would be accepted by the majority of a western public, the man from Hangzhou balanced an unlit cigarette between two crooked, rotting teeth. He was with two women and he was wearing a questionable outfit. Once the small talk was well underway the cards were all thrown down on the table and the man ambled up to me from his perch like some contorted circus act with an expression of the same sort of psychotic movement. And into my direction extended his arm until his hand was an inch from my face, the cigarette between his fingers but a centimeter. It was an offering of mutual understanding as if to say: “You’re alright and I’m alright. Let’s smoke.”