He looks good in soft, dark blue sweatpants, his green and black running shoes. He’s writing in a spiral notebook, legs crossed so he can use the top one to write – like me. Light brown hair, pale, slatey blue t-shirt under a blue and black striped hoodie with a black hood, under an unzipped puffy black jacket. Strong hands, boney, protruding knuckles, a straight nose that hooks under a little. He has black earbuds in. he looks up for a moment, then back down to write. He turns the page. Right handed. He holds his pen (not pencil) against his middle finger, not his ring finger. He’s got stubble, vaguely scruffy. He jiggles his foot up and down, stilling when he continues to write. His hair is short and combed to his right. His mouth is a soft line – concentrating. He closes the notebook, slides it into his messenger bag and relaxes.

One arm hooked through the bars, rubbing his thumb idly against his pointer and middle finger before tapping them in the air.

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