I have noticed a man who rides the subway with me every morning and evening. He is young, blond, and bearded, with the sides of his head shaved. He wears construction gear, with great clomping dusty boots and a reflecting safety vest. He carries a big blue cooler which I assume holds a gargantuan lunch. He looks like a coureur du bois or maybe a Viking. And this giant, rough-looking man always has a book in his hand. It isn't fluff, it's always hefty literature, and he is always so engrossed in his reading that I don't yet know what colour his eyes are; he never looks up until we reach our station and he has to jump up and go.
I have no idea who he is, but I can't but instinctively feel kindly toward him. Anyone who devours books that intensely is someone I want for a neighbour.