The cigarette, the horse, the weathered face, and the pursed lips, when he won a bet. 2 euro max, passing the time, no big plans, an extra few bits, but what was in his head, anyone’s guess. A man who loved to live, and was he some mechanic, plenty made use of him, and obliging too, how he loved the brandy and chat, the knock hill cavalier. Late in the night, the three of them would converse, Solomon always seeking wisdom, and where else, than is those who lived rather than just books. The personal insight from the man on the spot, priceless in all sorts of pursuits.
He lived among men, did his work simply, an observer of human traits, well, a man is supposed to be as good as his word, so he lived simply, this old friend. About to set off on a journey; Solomon was putting his reputation on the line, so he asked his old friend for some sound advice. Old man words carry instinct and experience, it wasn’t political news or what to buy for christmas, he was too simple for that. He gave Solomon a list of people who turn on people, the old man could read human nature behind those fat welcoming smiles.
Solomon listened to the advice he was given, not for sharing, personal. Took the wisdom with him, and sighed, well, if they recognize the light from above, surely they will understand, the gift he was taking with him, a gift he wanted to pass on; thanks old friend, amen.