The dust bin man has a faithful, white dog, a mongrel, actually. It stays at the main gate while its master works on the compound. It is quite well-behaved. In the evenings, the dust bin man, his little boy, and the dog sit quietly on the stone bench beside the street, as though waiting for something nice to pass by. I often wish that I could take pictures of them that way, but I am afraid they would be distressed by that.

The dust bin man and his little boy are now on our roof deck, trimming the plants. Minus the dog.