The Evening. Undergraduates continue to prowl the streets until early in the morning. They pass me by, seemingly oblivious to my presence, as they go on their merry to the end of a long line-up outside one of the clubs just up the street. Not that I want to be noticed, or feel somehow slighted that I go unnoticed. Annonimity has its advantages when one merely wishes to observe.

These peculiar representatives of the species usually travel in packs, though they can also be found, quite often, in pairs. In the latter grouping, one is likely to find them laughing for the sheer pleasure of being with someone else. The former grouping is much darker in its organization. Typically, one observes an alpha female, or, at most, a pair of alpha female, who seem to possess, by sheer power of their presence, an almost hypnotizing effect on the males present in the immediate vicinity. She, or the shes, command the attention of the males by way of their sudden vocal outbursts and the peculiar, often provocative, way the carry themselves. And the males seem willing participants in this whole charade: competing for the coveted attention of the alpha female, provoking them to even greater displays of bravodo. The other females in the grouping hover around its edges, whispering in hushed tones.

I walked onwards towards my destination, past the press of eagar youth, past the dimmly lit clubs, past the expensive coffee shops, past the boutiques now closed, to a trusty establishment called Tim Hortons. My plan was to nurse a large regular coffee, which is archiacallyreferred to in Montreal as a 1 and 1 (1 cream, 1 sugar), while reading Iranaeus’ Agaisnt Heresies. The whole excursion lasted a little more than an hour. The only person that noticed me was a slightly built, middle-aged man, who walked up to me and began to speak rapidly, though clearly, in French. Looking up from my reading, I interrupted him, I said I could only understand English. He smiled weakly, and reverted to what, to my ears, sounded like his native tongue. It sounded, at least, as if he was more comfortable speaking in English than in French. He needed money to buy something to eat.

I paused only for a second to consider the request before handing over the two-dollar coin in my pocket. Unlike other denizens of the street who had approached me requesting whatever spare change I had handy on my person, the tone of voice this man had used lacked the whiny demanding edge that leaves one feeling guilty for not immediately drawing whatever coinage can be found in one’s pocket. He addressed me, he stated his plight, all the while retaining his own dignity. I felt no sickening feeling, no twinge of guilt, no pressure to hand over that which was in my possession. He simply asked. So I stuck my hand in my pocket, not the least bit concerned with whether this man might spend the money on something other than food.