Lonely woman sat on a cafe terracce with a drawing board in her hands, no glasses or plates around. The day was hot, but she was wearing a down shawl with several layers of clothes. She drew young visitors of vegetarian cafe, finishing one sheet of printing paper after another. Sometimes she fell asleep, wrapping her jacket closely about herself. Cheap faux leather girt her thin waist adding a bit of a drama to the whole look. The woman was very weak, it was hard for her to get up and she preferred quiet nap under the parasol.
She was a theater artist back in 80s, forced to become a street caricature drawer in 90s to earn her living and buy materials for the theater. Those times 360 days a year under the Russian snow, heat and rains really affected her health, she lost almost all her teeth and hairs turned white. Teenage son oh hers needs trainers and she struggles to buy even a 7 dollar pair. She writes poems, illustrating them with her own little pencil pictures, but the latest book does not seem to be covering a cost of printing. This last desperate move made her a debtor.
Woman ate someone's mushroom soup with her fingers too ashamed to enter cafe for a spoon. Is she homeless? Is her son only a fiction of a poor mentally ill mind?