A Man

Today I saw a man. His face was obscured by the shadows cast from the late afternoons lack of sun. He sat low in his chair, his head bowed, his body sitting low in the chair. I noticed he wore headphones, and that his eyes were closed. Oblivious to the people around him, the steady movements of the boat were all this man could feel. However he must have felt my gaze for he opened his eyes. His face was young, he looked in his mid-twenties, his skin dark and his eyes more so. 

Instead of averting my eyes quickly I continued to look at him, for it did not feel rude. He looked at me for several moments before we both looked away. I had a magazine in my bag I remembered. I rifled through my overly used handbag and quickly found the magazine in question, which was sitting on top of my everyday rubbish - a cellphone with a flat battery, chewing gum and half opened letters, lying in their envelopes daring me to read them. Pointless, futile and draining. Those letters will stay unread. I opened the magazine on the fold I had left there earlier. Small black words screamed up at me, challenging me to read them; and I obeyed the words, and they glorified at their ability to have such power over me.

Once again, the magazine succeeded in engaging my mind and body. I was a quarter down the page when I subconsciously stopped. The man was looking at me again. I looked back at him. This time neither myself nor him looked away until twelve seconds had passed. I was fascinated. This man seemed to feel the same way, and I knew it was not a look of lust, of want, desire, or discrimination. 

I spoke not a word to him, and when I left the ferry his gaze followed me until I disappeared into the crowds of tourists and locals- all heading towards the cafe opposite, and the bookstore that was advertising a new best seller. Not a smile, or a hint of welcome did either of us transfer. All I knew of that person were his eyes, dark and unyielding. 

Who was he? And what did he mean.