I saw the old man, with his untidy clothes and messy hair, as he dashed between the rows of the department store. He was trying to be ordinary but he was hard not to__ . He the saleswoman and with a slight, possibly German, asked where the women’s shoes were sold. “Fourth floor.” She responded in a voice I could hear 10 miles away. “Pardon? Where did you say they were?” he asked again, apparently .Clearly the old man was somewhat “Fourth floor, sir,” the friendly saleswoman replied patiently, this time sothat customers turned to see what was causing the . I continued watching as the man thanked the saleswoman andfor what I assumed was the fourth floor. But rather than walk to the or the lift, he dashed behind a shelf, took out a notebook and started writing hurriedly, with an almost mad on his face. Then he went straight up to another saleswoman and asked where the women’s shoes were sold. Again he asked her to the answer and once more he walked away and took down some notes. He did this three more times before a department store, thinking him mad, removed him from the store. But rather than be, the old man departed with a huge smile on his face. Although the incident was, it was not until a year later, during my first year of university, that I gave it any further. I walked into my language classroom and met my professor. It was that very same man.