He comes from Brasil.
Daytime, he walks in the city center and mumbles with one hand held open in front of him. This evening - surprisingly clear and friendly. He had a bag of sliced bread and a large notebook (the paper one!) wherein he was writing different words with big, fancy letters. Like PEACE, HEMP, CANNABIS. He also has notes written by some local ganxta's which ride stinky scooters, talk loud to everyone on the street and occasionally offer him a sip from a hand-rolled joint.
His "friends", I guess.
He spoke perfect English and reasonable Dutch. When I asked him about a photo, he straightened up his back. He got 20 cm taller. His pitch black skin was shining in the darkness like freshly cut antracit. Strangely, there was no white in his eyes. "Ready, thanks." "No flash?" -he asked, somewhat disappointed.