He arrives here at the same time that I do. He waits outside the building for the doors to open, raising his sun-weathered hands towards the sky in some sort of meditation ritual he himself made up. Once the library unlocks its doors, he says hello to the staff and takes a seat by the window. His seat. He opens up his bag of things; a jar of water, his reading glasses, a notebook, and a pen. He goes to the stacks and pulls out a children's dictionary and whatever book he plans on reading that day. Today, it happens to be about Marine Biology. He sets up the scene, notebook in one hand, pen in the other.
His sanity must have gone years ago. Interesting words and phrases are compactly sprawled across every page of his tiny notebook. For years I was told to stay away from this "crazy man" as if somehow, his insanity could rub-off on me. I see him everyday, trying to fulfill the human desire to learn everything, filling his notebook with words, words, words.