Mateo
Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
The Pacifist Plaza is always busy on days like these - days like these referring to long and lazy afternoons when the sun is high and the pavestones shimmer in the heat. Stalls selling shaved ice and chilled tea are bustling, and the sound of children's laughter and the bright calls of merchants fills the air. Mateo hears all of this from the open doors of his own shop, but his little section of the Plaza is remarkably quiet.
It's not that his business is bad, of course, not at all; Mateo owns a florist and is renowned for providing the area with flawless displays (among other, very interesting and very secretive specimens). Rather, it's the simple and unfortunate truth that places like his shop tend to get humid af in this weather.
And so it's quiet and tranquil as Mateo tends to his flowers. Dressed in a sleevess shirt that can barely be called that (it looks as though someone has tried to macrame it and gave up halfway through) and a pair of pants with a drop crotch so low it's a surprise he hasn't fallen over himself, the botanist happily chatters away to a display of herbs and vegetables he's been cultivating for fun more than anything.
"And what am I going to do with you," he wonders to himself, trying to disentangle a vine of tomatoes from a few sprigs of thyme.
It's not that his business is bad, of course, not at all; Mateo owns a florist and is renowned for providing the area with flawless displays (among other, very interesting and very secretive specimens). Rather, it's the simple and unfortunate truth that places like his shop tend to get humid af in this weather.
And so it's quiet and tranquil as Mateo tends to his flowers. Dressed in a sleevess shirt that can barely be called that (it looks as though someone has tried to macrame it and gave up halfway through) and a pair of pants with a drop crotch so low it's a surprise he hasn't fallen over himself, the botanist happily chatters away to a display of herbs and vegetables he's been cultivating for fun more than anything.
"And what am I going to do with you," he wonders to himself, trying to disentangle a vine of tomatoes from a few sprigs of thyme.
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
