"An old man lies crumpled on the sidewalk: he has thin white hair and a long white goatee. He's dressed in a black coat and red and white striped trousers. People pass on by. There's a fly on the old man's forehead. His left arm is stretched out, his fingers curled like a beggar's, but he looks you right in the face. His angry eyes says he lies on the pavement not to ask you for what you've got but to ask you how you got it. He might be a bum, he might be a judge; as you follow his story you keep changing your mind..."