She's on the short side. Her hair is dyed reddish and isn't long. She's getting on in years and her wrinkling face, neck and forehead reveal this. I don't recall her name though I'm quite sure I asked once or twice. Surely she must have responded but I didn't record it. Properly, that is. The old dog has a name, too. I don't know it either. For ten years we've been meeting--the three of us--two exchanging pleasantries and what not. Round the neighbourhood. I think she likes foreigners. Wasn't she married to one? To her I must be just "el gringo". I bet she doesn't know my name. These ten years--a decade. Our meetings on street corners mostly. The state of things socially among people these days. Isn't it disgusting--or would it just be the rain?