I noticed the old man making painfully slow progress across a store front as the masses rushed by in the gathering dusk. Every sort of person seemed to be on the move and it made me think that 'All the world [really is] a stage' and how most people were oblivious to the old man's ‘last scene of all’:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
Opaque is the name of the store.