Le desespoir est assis sur un banc

Around downtown Silver Spring again. The fountain is a kid magnet in this weather. They're splashing around, mesmerized by the water that comes out each time from different holes in the ground. The air has an heavy smell of chlorine. I am walking fast to the AFI to catch an Italian movie. I walk past an old man sitting far away from the sounds of the fountain. The shouts of the children are almost inaudible from here. The old man is holding a plastic bag that says "This bag belongs to ...." "Room ...." An hospital bag with his belongings. His head is bent down looking at the ground. I'd like to follow the advice of the Prevert's poem called "Le désespoir est assis sur un banc" (Despair is sitting on a bench). He warned us "Ne le regardez pas!" ("don't look at him!") but my eyes are drawn to the white bag with the dots where his name should be.