-^-for posterity-^-

the copyshop. we sit and drink coffee and wait for our photocopying to finish. there isn’t a photocopy machine at the university that we can use so we wait. we watch traffic, our watches and wait.

the people that work there are all incredibly amiable; they’d invite you to their daughter’s wedding even thought you only met them one week ago. they walk around and smile and chat. the shop opens onto a street that is partially paved. when it rains you have to wade through small streams to get inside. the inside is full of small, red tables and stools. you sit on the stools and enjoy your coffee and wait. there is a family that owns the shop. they own three photo copying machines and they are constantly in use. at times, they photocopy whole books. today one of the sons was working on a book that was 1500 pages long. he said it took him the better part of the day to finish.

the eldest son is tall and has just married. his wife now works at the shop and ties her hair up in a neat ponytail. the son has frizzed hair that he doesn’t seem to tend to often. his passion is eating dog meat and working with his motorcycles. he has a wonderfully nice motorcycle that sits in the back of the shop under an old table cloth. when he’s in the right mood, he takes it out for a spin. you hear him roaring down the street before you see him. when you see him his floppy hair is matted back and he’s focused. he’s in another world.

the mother of the shop is really the one who runs the whole operation. she is no-nonsense and always says thanks. she is the first one to ask you what you want, how many copies, how many sides, when you’re going to pick it up and what not. she is the first to take the money, break a grin, and send you on your way with a nice, warm bundle of sliced tree. she doesn’t talk much and uses a small bowl of water to keep her fingers moist.

the father of the shop is, by far, the most interesting character. he wears thick glasses that stretch from the lower realms of his forehead to somewhere in the middle of his cheeks. he smiles and has gaps between most of his teeth. he is perpetually smiling. he works mostly on fixing the copy machines. he has a lot of toys. he has vacuum cleaners to suck out the dust. he takes apart the copy machine, sucks out the dust, takes apart the vacuum, wipes it down and puts everything back together again. he is normally hunched over a disemboweled machine, shirt off, half covered in black toner, fixing something. he practices his english and enjoys saying, ‘wonderful.’ for him, everything is wonderful. yesterday i was sitting alone in his shop and he brought over an article from the newspaper. it was describing aircraft carriers. he kept pointing to different parts of the ship and saying, ‘wonderful.’ he has an incredible way of saying the word. the first part, ‘won’, rises quickly and is held. the second part is short and falling but the ‘r’ is usually omitted. the third part rises again but not as quickly. it sounds like a rollercoaster and i can’t help but grin when i hear it. ‘woooooooooonnnnnnn ddee ffffffuuuuuuuuuuull!!!’

i always enjoy my time in the copyshop.