The gypsy girl insisted on reading my palm. Mostly I did not want to touch her. With a blister on her lip and her dirty fingertips. But she was imploring, and somewhat serious and urgent about it. I acquiesced and presented the palm of my left hand.
She looked shocked, she looked at me and looked back at my hand and blinked at me with an extremely nervous look.  ‘You are supposed to have died already twice’, she said, ‘You are surrounded by many enemies.’ She withdrew back in her chair she looked frightened of me.
Then she burst out laughing, and said, ‘There is no greater compliment!’
‘I want no money’, she said, ‘Take this talisman and in exactly one week follow these instructions’, she recited a chant for me to repeat thrice.
When it was time to perform the magic ritual I walked toward a fountain set up with benches. I would sit on one of the benches and stare at the sun for a bit. Warm up. But upon approach a man, who had been sitting on one of the benches, stood up and turned to face the fountain. Like  he was going to applaud the fountain. Instead he grappled with the front of his pantaloons, and then as if I really was seeing what I thought I was seeing, yup, he was pissing. A slight easy arc, rigorous pace and flow. I adjusted my plan. No warm up. Straight to the middle of the crossroads and the island, shaped like a tear drop, a cement obstacle, my prow.
With the sunshine in my eyes, blinding me, I followed the gypsy girl’s advice, and ever since I am waiting around for things to improve. 
Front row seats at the strangeness that is my life.