He is not waiting for a bus or a friend, nor is he taking a brief rest before resuming his walk. He doesn't intend to shop in the nearby stores either. He is just sitting there on the bench. Occasionally he smiles and talks. No one listens.
Nobody is interested.
And he doesn't seem to care if someone listens or not. A stream of cars, buses, and people flows by on the road. A river of metaphors and similes flows through his head. When everything stops at the traffic lights it is midnight back in his village. Morning starts when lights turn green.