into his eyes.

Glance, for once, beyond the shell, and onto the surface of his soul: do you see it? Weep, love, weep. For he is a man of sorrows and fears.

What did you see when you looked into his eyes?

He was the man in the rain, and the child as he cried; he was the woman who wept because she forgot. He was the youth in the room and the mother bruised; he was the father who kept it all inside.

What do you see?

Do you see the fist enclosing his heart, crushing him, tugging? Or the weights pulling him to the ground? Name them, name his adversaries, if you can. The man just calls them beautiful.

It's your turn now.

Ask him what he sees as the heart in his eyes looks into yours. Ask if you dare, my friend.