i see the drab unisex fabrics of this age , the fresh american girl in her olive green military clothes , all of her possessions slung over her shoulder in a backpack ; i see the old frenchman who has come here for decades merely to look at the bare legs and arms of the young , to feed on the gestures as if he were a vampire , to wait for some exotic jewel of a moment when a woman sits back laughing , cigarette in hand , and the doth of her synthetic blouse becomes tight over her breasts and there the nipples are visible .