x looks over at the table with no foreigners whatsoever. the merchant is old, around 70 at least, and fast asleep. without hesitation, x walks over to the man’s table and places 6 coins on his patterned tablecloth. j catches up with x and suggests leaving only 3, as the two will need at least 2 coins to manage a ride back to the motel. x refuses. the two leave having left 6 coins on the old man’s table. back to the motel. not a care in the world. the sun is shining and the man is dead. amidst the ruckus of foreign attraction and economic buzz, nearby merchants had failed to notice that the eldest of them had stopped breathing. the man is dead! the man is dead. and the ceramics continue to glisten.