You will see what I imagine

I stood on the sidewalk in the middle of Boulevard Street, not knowing where to go. I didn't see anyone in the dark street to ask about the time. This darkness wasn't like the darkness of the beginning or end of the night, nor was it like the gloomy days when the sun hides behind the clouds. Sometimes during snowfall, the daylight fades, or almost disappears, so that the whiteness of the snow seems dark, but this darkness is completely different. It doesn't reveal what it holds. The wailing of a horn echoed, then I saw a green tram car turning from the port. It was moving slowly, its lights off, and on its sides were drawn the faces of women with wide eyes and wide lips, with glasses and bottles of wine. It stopped for a few moments and its doors opened, but no one got out. When it moved again and the screeching of its wheels echoed, I said to myself: Why didn't… Thinking of boarding it? Why didn't I go somewhere else? It didn't matter where, maybe I'd find an open restaurant on the way, maybe I'd come across someone carrying food? But the tram disappeared, and there I was, alone again. After a few steps, I saw a wide, neon sign on the other side of the street. It said "The Chinese Barber Shop in Barcelona." I couldn't believe my eyes. I stared at the words and reread them, trying to understand how this absurd similarity had occurred between the name of the restaurant and the title of a story I was thinking of writing. It was the same, unchanged, as if someone had read my thoughts and taken it from them.