At school he was one of those children who did not make noise. Not because he had nothing to say. Because he learned early that noise brings eyes onto you and eyes on you are not always good news. He got good grades, kept few friends, carried a body that sometimes felt too heavy and sometimes too light, and had a way of looking out the window that made teachers think he was drifting off, when in truth he was simply trying to survive the feeling that something inside him did not sit right.

He had no words for it then. Most people don’t. First you feel the bad rhythm and only later learn what other people call it. Sometimes late. Sometimes far too late.