Old Man Lost in the Plant Conservatory

I often go to the Allen Gardens on Carlton to recline among the flora and perm my emotions. Today I chose to sit on the wrought-iron bench in the middle of the central courtyard where sometimes they display plant sculptures. Very small children tottered around the outskirts in loosely packed bunches with flat-faced handlers corralling them along at even intervals. Strange women paced from end to end in slow solitude. Others carried cameras close their chests, defensively.

After a while an old man in a tilly hat approached me and politely asked me a question that I didn't understand. He asked me again and still I didn't understand, though the words were English and the tone was friendly and intelligent. I stared at him silently as I tried to decode what he was saying. Another old man approached smiling and invited his friend to look around some more. A few minutes later the first old man came back and again asked me something that I couldn't grasp. "Do you want a plant?" I responded, a little stupidly. "No!" he shouted, suddenly enervated.

His friend arrived quickly to intervene. He explained to me that they were looking for a place to get coffee. I pointed in the direction of the nearest diner and explained how to get there. He thanked me but by that point the first man was pacing off in a different direction. After a while I heard them walking along the path behind me. The first man was moving quickly, hunting for something that wasn't there and speaking in a language no one knew. His friend walked calmly behind him. When I left they were still there.