The giant man speaks in a high pitched voice that makes you flinch for all it’s surprising raspiness, like the sounds a teenage boy might make. Why is his voice so sour and stunted? Has he eaten too many citrus fruits?

One girl tells Shadow she is studying education. No hesitation. Shadow is preaching, letting whatever words enter his mind exit through his mouth without any thought except rhythmic continuity.

“You don’t go to school for education. You’ve got to Be a teacher. You can’t go to school to learn that. You got to be that now and always. What do you teach? What are you teaching me right now?”

In unplanned, organic order, the Ottawans take turns at Shadow’s table. Sometimes he is asking them about his art – which drawings do they like, why, rank the art, 1st, 2nd, 3rd – and sometimes he is bending their heads around a corner they hadn’t imagined. He sits, a little slumped, encouraging his more reticent guests with a nodding head and an occasional, “Um hmm,” or, “Oh yeah? Really?” And he sounds surprised when he says these things.

Read the rest of this blog entry of a Sir Shadow experience and perspective here;
Moosecrossing at Blogspot ~ Serenity