Piri Thomas needed some time to think away from his block. He felt the need to be alone. After walking for a while he found himself in East Flatbush, Brooklyn. It was quite different from the area he grew up in, but he was digging the scene. People were hanging out on their stoops and shooting the breeze with each other. The way he saw them made life seem simple, but he knew that this was only an illusion. There was an inner struggle, that he knew only too well, a struggle to rise above the limitations that the societal structure has placed so heavily on them.
As Piri continued to walk he came upon a hair cuttery with what looked like the owner standing out front. He was a man that looked like he had lived a longer live that his age suggested. Piri sensed that this man was holding onto a lot of pain. For some reason Piri immediately felt the urge to approach him. As he got closer Piri noticed a big scar that went all the way down the left side of his face. The man said, "Can I help you?" Piri replied, "Are you still open for hair cuts?"
"Yeah, You'll be the last for the day."
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