b'He stood there, mumbling to himself, studying aentively the various cuts of meat displayed in the window. Every once in a while, he would take his cap off and scratch his head. His eyebrows would dance up and down and then hed smile. He might have looked like an odd fellow, but I knew beer. He was just like me. I heard his thoughts: a recipe for a wonderful veal stew or maybe a perfectly cooked chicken slowly turned over the spit. As my wife took his picture, I started to salivate. When the man walked away, our eyes met. I smiled, he tipped his cap and smiled back. I think he knew I had been listening.38'