At a flea market he lives, chatting with everyone, everything he meets. With his microscopic lenses he wanders registering the world in his head: composing words and frozen live scenes. When the rest of us is too busy with everything gigantic and big and enormous, he scavanges neglected details from every nooks and crannies, puts them carefully in his big box to enrich his collection: towers of keepsakes and memories.
At a flea market he lives, enjoying forever sun beamed out from the loud crowds in his surroundings. He counts all the clouds in the sky and seeks for the greenest tree over the hill everytime he looks out the window. He distinguishes different colors of droplets of rain and paints his own rainbow out of them.
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