At the Corner Pine & 17th

 6th of July2016

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Yesterday somebody told me, that he works at a small farm. When he told me, that it is only located less than a halve mile from Union Station, I could not believe him. I have seen almost every street in St. Louis. But for some reason, it seems like I have never passed this part of the street. Seeing new places or streets is one of my hobbies, which I do in my free time, besides music and dancing.

Today I had about 50 minutes until the bus should arrive. So I decided to see, if there is a farm. Indeed there was a farm for workers who were working only 0.4 miles from Union station. The farm is small, but nevertheless has all kind of vegetables.

Since I started feeling hungry and would not be able to go home before dance class, I decided to go to the 7-Eleven on Corner Pine & 17th. I had passed this story many times and was surprised that one spot in St. Louis downtown could attract more people than one fancy street. Besides special events you barely see more than two people walking down the road. When I got in, I was greeted by the security guy, who seem to know almost everyone , who comes to the store.

Since I was not able to remember, when I had my last hamburger, I felt it was time to follow the American life style and order a hamburger. I sat down in front of the store and studied all the very different people, who dropped into the store every minute.

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One guy with a cigarette in one hand and two beer bottles in another greeted me friendly. In a twinkling of an eye, he put down the beer bottle next to me gave me the cigarette and said he will be back in a second, he just has to buy something. In the meanwhile I should enjoy his beer. Now was sitting there with beer, which I was not supposed to have, although my 21st birthday is in 19 days and a cigarette, which I do not smoke. I was not sure, if he was going to come back after five minutes. Finally he came, sat down on my left side and apologized and he said that there was a long line in the store. I still have trouble to understand 100% of the African-American slang. As far I understood him, he talked about how he always meets people, how he moved from city to city and how it was in the old days. From time to time, he would laugh loudly and look into my face. The reason why he behaved like this, was hidden for me. I asked him also a few questions. But when he wanted to open his second bottle of beer for me, I told him that I have to leave him to catch my bus, what was the truth. He smiled at me, said good bye and wished me good luck. We both stood up and he strolled towards another group of people and talked with them.

I have never been to this dance studio. But when I arrived, I surprisingly met there a lot of people, who I had met in the circus before or who know at least some friends of me.

It does not matter if I go into the bus, driving down a street, going to a dance studio, having dinner in a restaurant, almost every day I meet people who know me and I would never have expected to meet them there. Sometimes I do not remember their names and feel a little bit awkward about it, because they remember always my name, although they pronounce it like Jon, Yang, Juan, Shan or Jean.

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