Who are you? I see you everyday in that same little Life Cafe. You sit there, fiddling with that tiny camera, occasionally taking notes on a stained piece of lined paper. Every once in a while you take a sip from a cup filled with coffee. Coffee. Why no drink something more refined like Indian tea? Is that not the preferred drink of the artistically inclined? Even sitting by the warm heater you wear your white and black scarf. Does it not get hot in that corner? Corner. Why sit alone? Do you not enjoy the company of others? Or have all your friends gone off, doing more social activites? Whatever the reason, I'm sure it is a good one. Now you adjust your glasses and brush back a strand of hair. You lift your head and look into a stained-glass mirror. I look into that same, pretty mirror. Who are you? Oh yes, you are me.