It was late. Not so late that the streets were empty, but empty enough for a lone roasted banana-cart salesman. From outside my front window, I heard a screaming whistle that impelled me to the front window to investigate. Looking down to the street I immediately recognized the source, but it was still a strange sight for my street. Mine is a street of taco and corn carts, not roasted bananas. Novelty has its advantages though. The salesman was immediately facing his first customer and began his preparations. The customer was distracting, and himself mesmerized by the cart, foolishly trying to touch the near-glowingly hot stovepipe. However, these are the burdens that must be born by the roasted banana-cart salesman. He continued resolutely, and all the while I spied upon this scene hoping the sound from the passing cars would cover the clicking of my shutter. Bananas dressed and sugared, handed to the customer, and business transacted, the roasted banana-cart salesman continued on into the night. We parted ways, never having met, but with the sweet possibility for the future should the roasted banana-cart salesman ever decide to wander this way again.

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