Scott

People come and go. But some have a mysterious kind of existence that draws you to them, in a way. There is a sense of ease that embodies you as they occupy a physical space somewhere close. They walk by, and suddenly, calmness and serenity make you just want to stop and stare. They make you drop everything you’re doing and just appreciate the peaceful transference of energy and the harmonious vibration of particles in the room. Something about them is inexplicable, no matter how hard you try to reduce it down to physical entities or amplify it to supernatural auras.

I call him Scott. Though our eyes never met, and though all I can glimpse of him is his figure and physical gestures, the thought of him makes me smile. Scott makes me enter to an endless state of meditation I never want to terminate. We frequent the same place. I never felt the desire to talk to him, despite the fact that his status allows for a conversation to start smoothly, with no sense of awkwardness. I was happy admiring from afar.

The closest I’ve ever got to his being was when my shadow stood two feet away from his. But in reality, we were four meters apart. Our backs were facing one another; he was conversing with someone else while I was drinking from a water tank. I could hear what they were talking about, not that I intended to. But his voice was music to an ear often deaf to others’. It was an involuntary selective attention that my brain decided to engage in. His voice was a manifestation of the ideal you’d be fool not to desire to get a grasp of.

All I ever saw were pieces – chunks of his being that my memory constantly fails to put together into a coherent, beautiful soul. I never saw his two eyes in an instant. He would walk before me and I would see the right side of his face. Then the left side as he makes his way back. But never both simultaneously. My imagination would make out of his gait a fantasized scenario of a tango dancer, for it was flawless and in sync with his surroundings. No sound. Almost like a ghost you’d want to walk through.

My story with Scott never started to even end. It is merely a strand of fantasies, striving hopelessly to make sense of his mysterious and charming existence.