Inconspicuous he stands, his gaze is wise, and a faint smile flickers across his lips. It is the moment of an unassuming encounter, without many words, cloaked in conversational silence, yet the moment does not feel quiet. He listens and pays attention, his hair completely white, and his age is evident. And yet, there is something about him that does not make him seem old but rather makes him appear young and fresh in spirit.
The location is as unremarkable as he is. Stone slabs on the ground, bearing the marks of their history, brightly painted house walls that give shape to the square, and in some places, the plaster is already peeling off. Nestled between the walls, a shop stands, not inconspicuous at all compared to the surroundings, yet not the focal point of this place.
Next to benches and tables, on a small step at the edge, sits a small rusty kettle, filled with coals, and just as old in spirit as he is. This kettle has likely served its purpose for many years, and countless times it has been fueled. This little fire kettle is the material heart of this place, the heart that makes this square glow. And he is the one who brings this kettle and this place to life every evening when he brews tea there.
Later in the evening, the sun has already set, and the square and benches are filled and illuminated. On the edge stands his creation, the finished tea and coffee, and yet it is the shared peaceful gathering of people that empowers this place. They are all content, engrossed in conversations, and he too is long enveloped in the discussions of the people. He appears content, his work is done, and yet it seems as if his masterpiece is not the warm beverage but the sense of community and the place of encounter.
Article and photos by Paul