I can hardly remember him.
Back then, he was a spectator of his own life. Always at a distance; seeing things from behind doorways slightly ajar or in-between fleeting faces that filled the spaces around him.
He was detached. Most of the people he knew could not seem to make their impressions stick. In a haze of dissociation, when solitude made itself available, he seized the moment.
But he found himself consistently returning to those drifting souls he once knew.…