An ordinary employee at a public institution

The sum of what he makes

One thousand three hundred and something pounds

He has no dependants

Not responsible for anyone but himself

He doesn’t confide to passing friends his hope or despair

He was very ordinary in content and in form

Not evil and not good

Not talented and not stupid

Not a lunatic and not a saint

Nor did he even have a story of fighting for livelihood in a foreign country

Which might have inspired cinema folk to make a film

Or at least made someone miss him at meals

He’s the type that you’d be surprised to see in a dream

Yet today he visited mine

Stood on the thin line (hair) between being and nothingness

With his eyes open

Walking down their/his dusty street

His footsteps leaving no trace behind him

Like he has no footfall.. On the ground/earth, it was like

He was moving but time was not

He was walking while we (all) stood fixed/frozen/nailed around him

Until the fog slowly swallowed him

Like the fictional hero of a legend

He did nothing worth mentioning

Except that he’s still standing on his (own) two legs