They are not surprised anymore when I come to the station, they greet me and ask directly for the things I am looking for.
Maral is a bit the tough guy. He gives me two banknotes of 1000 Italian liras. "Very old," he says.
They are from 1982, not that old.
The money is on the street here, in the trash. The pre-Euro money from Europe. The Argentinean Pesos and Australes of former governments. Its useless money.
A fire is lighted and Gabi pass by to ask everybody for vegetables. Vegetables you get in the shops or from the grocers. Half rotten, but if you cook them well, its not that bad.
Its Tuesday today. A day that there are no charities to bring some old bread or hard cookies. Its the day they cook by themselves, soup in a big pan above the wood fire next to the station. On Tuesdays, my clothes smell like smoke and vegetable soup.