Watching a rather inane street performer, his lips curled in contempt (or, perhaps, naturally), he maintained an unblinking stare--this smoking man of Arbat. Of course, his eyes were concealed by his sunglasses and his "Lenin" cap, but, for some reason, I was convinced of it.
And as he watched on, I watched him, admittedly pleased that I could detect his smoke through my viewfinder. Then I took a second to review the existent photos, and pointed the camera back up.
He was gone.