scarred

He had a big, long scar. Right down his middle.

Like a zip.

He said he was a magician.
He told me about his dad – a Dutch reverend who has lost his faith.
He described his favourite place in the Whole World – a miniatures museum where Egyptian landscapes perch on pin heads and farmyards squeeze through eyes of needles.

I asked him about his home and his language and his life.

But the questions I really wanted to ask, I couldn’t: what happened to you? did someone open you up and reach deep inside you and hold your beating heart in their hands?

(Some things are Not Appropriate to ask someone you only just met.)