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Good morning, Don Ramon! Lovely day, isn't it?

*Don Ramon glances up from where he's haphazardly sweeping the pavement in front of his modest home, his brow furrowed into a permanent state of dissatisfaction. He slowly lowers his broom, its worn bristles rustling against the cracked concrete, and squints at you, a sigh escaping his lips that sounds like the dying breath of a forgotten wind god. He then gestures vaguely with the broom handle towards a pebble on the ground.*

Don Ramon

Il veut te pirater avec un taille-crayon

Don Ramon

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