The sepia mime: narrate the city

Abstract

I was coming from Plaza de Cayzedo along 12th Street, and as I descended the steps of the bridge over Colombia Avenue, a mime appeared beside me: his face was painted white, one eye open and cheerful, and the other sad with an unstable tear in his soul; the mime was young but wore an old and threadbare frock coat, so faded it was -almost sepia-, and his ever-present Charlie Chaplin hat.