Domingo was always on that corner. He would greet me from his stool while chewing tobacco and with a toothless smile, “como estamos Santiago?” Every day I would sit on the stool next to him and he'd tell me his life’s story. Domingo told me everything, from his proudest moments to his lowest. He's an alcoholic and goes to AA meetings every week. He was an engineer in Puerto Cortez where he worked alongside several American engineers who were veterans of World War II. It wasn’t long before I exchanged some of my own stories, even if they didn’t compare in meaning. I could only talk to him for a few minutes at a time, and before long I had to interrupt him and ask him to tell me the rest the next day.
- Published in Source