Kolding Caffe attracts quite a number of regulars. One of them is a gaunt man about my age with carefully groomed gray hair. He does not notice anyone around him. Once he chooses a table, and there are only a few tables to his exacting taste, he spends his time fiddling with lottery forms of some kind. His table is covered with thick wads of such forms, which he checks every now and then. But he takes at least half an hour to fill a new form. Sometimes it takes an hour. As he does that, he keeps smoking one cigarette after another and sipping his coffee. Holding his head with one or both hands and staring at the form in front of him, he takes at least a minute before he marks one of the boxes. And there are plenty of them. His concentration is intense. But it is amazing to watch his feet. They are in constant motion. He behaves as though he is on pins and needles. Literally. Although he looks perfectly calm above the waist, below it he is excited beyond belief. His feet twist and turn all the time. On occasion they shake. It is enough to watch his feet for a few minutes to become as jittery as he appears to be. Thus I have learned to leave his feet alone. I make sure not to look at them at all. The passion of the man on pins and needles is contagious, indeed.