not fully reading his notes, nor writing, nor contemplating, nor meditating, nor praying, nor touching his pyramidal shaped stone. Not even sitting still nor walking down the sea. All of his actions converge in just being there, present. Over the months I started to call this young man The Monk. To my eyes, there's some quality to it. Invisible for the rest of the people around him. Silent. Part of this world, but absent in a certain way, more present in his own reality. Walking his very own path. I became obsessed about the fascinating strength and force that he, silent and anonymously, represented.
the quiet strength
