I like when people sit in silence.
He sits there so still, thoroughly engrossed in everything but himself. Whether he is reaidng or observing those around him, whatever the subject of attention may be, he gives it his entire focus. Quite a devoted man if you ask me.
He is wearing a plaid shirt and there is no hair on his head. Only the vague scrapings of a freshly shaved scalp. His eyebrows raise when he thinks. He looks like a deep thinker. So many things must pass in his brain. How do I know this? I watch his eyes.
His eyes look beyond – they look deper. They look thickly. His gaze penetrates the superficial. There is a studied demeanor in his eyes.
He sits there quietly on the subway obscure, complex, hidden from the observation of others. He sits alone in the corner.
I think he is smart. At least, he looks intelligent. He may be one of those kinds of people who are unbearably intelligent, yet have a difficult time communicating their words.
Noise bothers him.
He tries to read, but the meaningless chatter of sounds interrupt his pattern of thought, leaving him frustrated.
He raises his eyebrows again.
Jostling his wrist with a quick motion, his watch makes a funny clicking sound… but he doesn’t notice.
He’s much too engrossed in the art of studying to hear the sounds he makes. Too busy listening to the noise around him to hear the noises that usher forth from himself.
The wrinkles on his forehead show clearly when he thinks. They add to his character. Without them, he wouldn’t be the same person… They add to his already quirky demeanor.
The subway comes to an abrupt halt. He raises his eyebrows again.