old man sitting on step. his name is buford. he lives in a low income hotel.
when asked if this is the case, he says "no, i live in a whore house!" i take
this for sarcasm.
as i initially pass, he is slouched on some steps looking all curmudgeonly
and gazing at his feet or knees. i only catch a glimpse of his eyes looking
back.
"why do you want to take my picture" he asks when i double back.
"i like your eyes"
looking down and away quickly: "what color are they?"
"they have halos of blue and grey."
"well ok then. take your picture."
as i leave: "if that's what you like; don't ever stop."