Stranger

I notice him sitting by the window staring at the busy street outside. Lost in his own discourse, his eyes sparkle like the flames of a firework. About 6’5’’, he is strong, masculine with long brown hair and an even longer beard. His hands serve as a blanket for a book that naps on his thighs. His lips form a slight curve every time he looks at the little girl who’s playing outside. He is poised, content. He hums along to the tunes of the song playing in his ear, and sings when his favourite lines come along. He scribbles the little, joyful things around him in the corner of a paper. With his eyes closed, he inhales the petrichor into his body. Imagination takes over him as he stares into space. Occasionally, he surrenders himself to the music that touches his heart. He is kind to a stranger and helpful to the needy. When conscious, he smiles awkwardly. His face beams with happiness when the cold breeze plays with his hair. He finds comfort in the dark and tranquillity in his being. He moves slowly, confined to himself; none aware of his existence. He is smooth and courteous, modest and humble, joyful and tranquil. Someone I have never known, he is a stranger to my eye, and yet to my soul, he is like my own.