The robed Hara Krishna follower approached me with an outstretched hand holding some sort of sticker. “Gift. Gift.” He said, gesturing with whatever it was.
I reached into my right pocket and his eyes crinkled with a smile. I extended my hand, offering him a “Bucktown” neighborhood button that we commissioned for our trip.
“No. No.” Shaking his head he thumbed the edge of his robe to indicate he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, pin a button on the saffron garment.
I extended my hand again, asking him to accept it anyway. He turned and briskly walked away saying “No. No. No. No. No.”