I’m sitting in one of the indistinct but comfortable chairs. I am played today by someone who is played by David Bowie. Yes, you got it right. I’m not played by David Bowie, really. It’s more like I’m played by a character who is played by David Bowie.
At the threshold in the arch to the hallway, there is a single step, down if you’re going out or up if you’re coming in. At the step there is someone who is clearly meant to look like a “bag lady,” a homeless person. She has an old bent shopping cart full of bags, and she is busily working on getting the cart up the step from the hallway into the room. She stoops and laboriously lifts the front wheels up so that they rest on the step. Then she goes to the back of the cart, and with even more effort, pushes and lifts the back wheels up the step onto the floor of the room.
After pushing the cart about two feet away from the step, she slowly steps up herself, and then pushes the cart about five more feet into the room. She stops, seemingly seeing me for the first time.
She is played by Art Garfunkel. Yeah, that Art Garfunkel, complete with frizzy hair and several days facial hair growth.
“Please sit.” I indicate the other chair facing me.
After hesitating a moment, she pushes the cart toward the chair. When she nears it, she very carefully maneuvers the cart in a circle and parks it right beside the chair. Without looking at me again, she shuffles around to the front of the chair and collapses into it. She closes her eyes, clearly relishing the comfort. Her eyes stay closed, and she seems to wait.
I also wait.