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A timeless man

Perhaps there were outbursts of fate, a plot of the universe that threatened him. Perhaps it was a sworn enmity towards banal conceptions such as time or punctuality. Some kind of rebellion against the order of things.


Whatever the reason, he was always late. You could say it was an art itself; with astonishing precision he was punctual in his unpunctuality. Thirty, forty, fifty minutes, even an hour late he could be seen arriving. They say that once, he arrived an hour and a half later. Yes, just like that he knocked on the door and crossed the threshold with that agitated air of someone who "made an effort to arrive a little less late". With no words said, he sat down and limited himself to exist anonymously somewhere in the room. There were times when he suddenly appeared; It was like a talent to be and not be at the same time. With those big round eyes, it was surprisingly blank.


Perhaps it was a timeless being, a superior being who merely observed the crude daily university life. Who could tell the mysteries hiding behind those dark eyes? This question like other mysteries of the universe, won't ever be known.




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