Tending the flowers

My neighbour was in his garden this morning as usual. He seems to belong there. In truth, it is not his garden but the woman who owns the house lets him use it as she is rarely there. I sat in the square with him yesterday. He is difficult to understand being Turkish with imperfect French. He also has very little voice as it seems to have been damaged by smoking. I am pleased at least that he now smokes an electronic one. So I had to do most of the talking while he smiled in his usual untroubled and phlegmatic way.