A middle-aged man sat under a palm tree with the afternoon sun at his back;
staring straight ahead at a pleasantly colored wall.
A blank canvas, a minimalist's slate.
Only the rusty derelict water tower, the trunk of the palm, and himself.  
Three sharp-edged shadows on tangerine stucco.
He stared at the motionless figures for a precious time.
He saw the plummeting shadow of the coconut only briefly.
His final thought;
'Sitting under a palm tree in the afternoon sun does have its risks.'