He slumped down into a plastic, vacant rail station seat across from me, pausing for a moment as if to contemplate the enormity of the task he was about to undertake. His right hand held a European citrus soda while a package of six snowballs dangled from his right. Go time. With one corner torn open the first treat was in hand – his desire too fervent to wait to free them en mass. A snowfall of coconut flakes accompanied each bite as he devoured the remainders punctuated by swigs of the citrus ambrosia. When the deed was done and wrapper forgotten on the floor he could only stare blankly up and to the left, perhaps witnessing some personal, godly beauty. There he remained, stautesque, complimented by and even distribution of coconut, until I was forced by an arriving train to depart.