Lankan

Sri Lankan residents, for example, might look away when speaking to an officer, he said, as a sign of respect, not disdain.

I am Sri Lankan.

He is Sri Lankan, isn't he?

She is Sri Lankan, isn't she?

They are Sri Lankan, aren't they?

Feeling a bit sedentary, I took my second walk in the morning of the 8th of November of 2021. By around 10:30, I was at the pizzeria. The pizza vendor was a chunky Hindu Sri Lankan. Then, at the cafe, I was drinking coffee-infused iced oat milk. A couple, both brown-haired, sat at the table across the room. The man in a green jacket, light brown pants, and grey garden clogs was in good shape. I wanted to see him nude. The woman was wearing a red scarf. He was reading a fat book, whilst she was using a tablet computer. A trio of Mandarin-speakers seated themselves at a table next to the couple. A muscular Arab man who was frequent at the cafe entered. Chris the half-English half-Japanese barista in a black shirt with the red-lettered word "PARIS" and in green pants entered.

Having woken up late, in the afternoon of the 4th of February of 2022, I was drinking my iced black tea at the cafe, and I saw a handsome dark-haired boy in a dark-grey tracksuit. Later, at the pizzeria, I asked the name of the muscular Sri Lankan owner, who was sitting there; his name is Tharsan.

On the 1st of March of 2022, I went twice to the pizzeria, once in the morning when I had butter chicken pizza and later in the afternoon when I had mushroom spinach pesto cheese chicken pizza, both times in which I drank a black effervescent drink. In the morning, there were two fire trucks illumined at the mall. In the afternoon, there were handsome men. A lady wore a leopard shawl. Two Hispanics entered. Tharsan the Sri Lankan owner was speaking to an advertising agent lady.

On the sunny morning of the 9th of March of 2022, I found myself in the Lulu Island pizzeria, as Tharsan, the Sri Lankan owner, served me a pesto cheese slice. I took a cold black diet cola from the dispensing machine. Rose the Filipina and Tharsan were preparing many orders, some for schools. A loquacious, neat-looking head-shaven delivery man in a blue jacket and black track pants was loading the pizzas into his vehicle. The big screen was showing news from Seattle, but the sound was turned off, as usual.

In the grey-sky morning of the 31st of March of 2023, Greg and I, both Filipinos, talked at the teahouse on Lulu Island. Greg by then had already finished his coffee, and I had just ordered my Iced Black Tea. Greg bought two bags of Dried Apple Chips, one of which he gave generously to me. We discussed in Tagalog many things like the romanticization of history, Inuit, Cree Indians, Alberta where he lived before, and evolution. Greg still did not believe in evolution, and I mentioned the Filipino creation myth in which from bamboo out came a man and a woman. We both learned this legend in school. I went to the pizzeria to have a slice and a Diet Coke. The owner, the Sri Lankan Tamil named Tharsan, was at the cashier. He lived in Vancouver, not here on Lulu Island. He had a girlfriend, also Sri Lankan. At my table, I read a Japanese fantasy book, Kudaketa Monshou, or Crumbled Coat of Arms. In my red fanny pack, I also had an Esperanto Mini Dictionary.