Almost every shop has a kid in a barber's cape in the big chair, a lollipop in hand. Nobody left the place empty: there is always someone on the bench, at the counter or chatting by the door. The walls work as hard as the floor, with mirrors ringed with bulbs, rows of little framed photos and a striped pole or two. Red and white stripes come back on the rugs and the trunks.
Whoever plays one next gets to decide whether that kid ever finishes his trim.