The Man with No Name
I see the same willowy twenty-something on the same block each week day morning. He is always wearing a dark Hermes H belt with light trousers and a pale, pressed shirt. The contrast makes the belt pop, which I am sure is quiet intentional. As quickly as my eye is drawn to the gold buckle, it is torn away to a black nylon blackberry holder hitched holster-style to the dark brown belt strap.
