July 4, 2019
He seemed way too interesting for me to walk away from. We happened to get off at the same stop, so I got off the train, turned around and asked, “What were you writing in?”
I was watching on the train. He had a magazine and a red pen, and every once in a while he would stop reading, get out his red pen and scribble something in the margins. Arrows pointed to an image on the center of the page. At the top, he started drawing a pair of pants and wrote something next to them—that’s when we got to our stop.
“It’s an art piece,” he explained, and it demonstrates how he learns and reads differently than other people. It’s probably not much like how I read—I can follow the threads pretty well and I tend not to get too distracted. It’s not so for him. Every time he gets distracted, he writes down exactly what he’s thinking or doodles to show where his mind is at. The pages of this magazine will soon, I expect, be covered in such doodles as he reads it.
He intends to be in New York for a bit. I wonder if he’ll stay. I told him he has a new friend in the city anytime he needs me.
You’re clearly talented, you have an eye, and a vision, unlike many others. I could tell just by your outfit and demeanor, but don’t ask me how.
Nice to meet you, MR.