A man sits on a bench in a quiet corner with a make-shift cart that he has made out of a baby's pram. He sells bread from the pram which is still stacked with a lot of bread. He leans back on the bench, reserved and withdrawn, looking like he has given up hope on selling any bread for the day. One side of the street fades into darkness and despair, yet the other is optimistically and brightly lit. What will his luck be today? Will he sell any bread? I think he will wait and see.