There’s a new book in my room.
Okay, it’s not new. It’s somebody else’s. Somebody who was sitting in front of the gym, smoking, and suddenly called my name. He invited me to coffee in his dorm room, where he taught me how to play a Peruvian song on the guitar and talked about his favorite books, his job, and how he tends to ask people questions, even if he doesn’t know them.
I asked if I could borrow the score for the song he taught me. The coffee was quite tasty, or maybe it was the attention which made it good. Later I asked if I could borrow one of his Haruki Murakami books. His voice was soothing, and his friendliness was simply unbelievable for a time when I’ve been feeling like a social pariah.
Once again, I’ve been miraculously acknowledged as a human being.