Sandvič pronounced sendvich, may or may not be sandwich in Croatian. Barry is and still was Barry in both. He sold bonsai. Rather, he housed bonsai. Not loaves filled with various ingredients. Not only did Barry sell miniature trees – he nursed them back to full health- for free. Insisting that the ebb and flow of money always worked out in the end; every second person would buy a new pot, every third a new tree.
Eyes telescope goldfish, circular cheek Band-Aid covering an unfortunate epidermis mishap. Barry’s gaze drifted up towards the sky. Mouth clearly moving in speech. Personal curiosities about what was behind the Band- Aid, had ears temporarily un-tuned and proved an informational loss average of 0.5%. At the time, the loss seemed grand, with little comparison. If one had known the sheer length and breadth of Barry’s talking abilities, the Band-Aid could have been pondered upon for quite a while longer. This was not the case. Notes are useless with cases such as Barry. He knew he had come in contact with a listener. Not only did Barry challenge listening skills, he increased them.
If a storyteller comes in direct contact with a listener its game over for time. The gift of knowledge for anyone with ears that can swallow.
Dusty lounge room of clear as day semi- hoarders. Smells of antique skin both mahogany & human flakes. Wife Estrella standing, watching television. A smile, ‘hello customer, I smile in sheer politeness, thank you for entering my shop, now my home, I do appreciate you and your presence, but this smile is fake, if you could understand what I am going through, my husband, I’m going to k…’
The toilet peculiar- just like Barry. A snapshot of his soapy imperial leather & cornered blooms. Bathroom re-emergence. Heart vibes sent direct to land Ella. I mean no harm. Moving through lounge, and back toward garden.
‘is this one a fig, Barry?’
‘oh yes, there’s a story along with that one, I’ve got stories, so many, I’ll write a book one day’
Inner cacophonies let loose. Barry would never write a book. He was a book. Writing one would take away the thrill of engagement. A hidden gem of the community.
‘yeah, I like the figs, because they look like little humans’
‘Yes, well if you look here..’, pointing to a protruding growth at the bottom of one of the trunks
A hand over mouth chuckle turned Barry back little boy. Clocking on to a semi-mutual madness. Band- Aid still semi-distracting. His voice dimming to simmer.
‘depending on how open your mind is, you may like what’s out back’
‘it’s pretty open,’ gesturing a tap-tap head knock
‘come with me’
Silence reigned, obviously to lessen the amount of kindle to Estrella’s fire. Maybe she was the one behind the Band-Aid.