robertisenberg

Buskers : 3

In Uncategorized on August 21, 2009 at 12:00 pm

Archipelagos 053

As I crossed the square to the Acropolis, I saw a man standing alone. He wore white make-up and a white cassock and head-scarf. He moved every few minutes, modifying his pose, but still standing as still as possible. In the U.S., we tend to call these “living statues,” but there seemed a religious inspiration. Was this a saint? A poltergeist? What art thou that usurp’st this time of night?

When I snapped a picture, the Statue swiveled his head. His hand, already held in the air, extended an index finger, which then pointed downward. You take picture, you give money, the gesture said.

Ah, my nod replied.

I dropped a €2 coin into his velvet-lined box. I felt this was generous: $3 for a snapshot, twice the price for a cheap postcard. But the Statue pointed again; his Grim Reeper countenance looked even grimmer. I chuckled and shook my head. No, that’s it.

And before he could break character and chase after me, I eased into the crowd and turned a corner, into the bazaar, vanishing with my saintly icon.

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