Was he an old-fashioned man? Probably. Some of his co-workers just called him that. He forgave them readily, because he did not know how to get involved in the all out race with the new times, although he wanted to. His loves were, no doubt, loves of the past; he loved the moist and dark courtyards of his city; he eagerly looked at the misty lights of the old shops and shop windows, the plastic packaging of goods and the never-ending evergreens that were played in large supermarkets he found disagreeable and the place anonymity turned him also into a strange, ordinary person, he was only a stranger, someone who did not know a thing about the prices or the various goods on offer.