I met Dion in a man made natural spring pool. He was just sitting there. Apparently for hours. His hands had withered like a soft sponge, discoloured by the length of time in the hot water. I liked his face and started to talk to him. After his wife died, the 45 minute drive from his home to the pool was a relatively frequent event. When he had time off work.
I left him there in the water. In the corner watching the people pass by. Come and go like us.