Careful and in Control  − 30 April, 2008

He's always so careful. He doesn't laugh out loud, his movements are controlled, his jeans are ironed. There is never a hair out of place, a stain, a hole.

Every lunch hour he eats something vegetarian, preferably veggan, no gluten. He reads his paper.

But he listens our conversations. Sometimes he comments. Sometimes he just looks at us.

He doesn't react to compliments or requests. He does as he pleases with no concern for others.

His voice is so low that it forces the other person to strain to listen. His smile is never wide and spontaneous.

It took months to make him talk. Many more months to make him laugh just a bit. Now he says hello when he sees me. But there is no confidence, never a tiny personal information about him.

Everything is closely kept around him and even the air stands to attention.