With one hand Mr Llevric holds the textbook in front of us. In his softest voice he begins to read…
"The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;"
I can hear the soft rustle when Mr Llevric's fingers tardily glide down the paper. Instead of the words printed on the pages, his beautifully structured hand catches my eyes.
The prominent veins climb along his sharp metacarpals, up to the slim phalanges after sections of sharp knuckles.
His fingernails are perfectly trimmed and cleaned, the soft daylight flows through their surface as he slides his fingers down the paragraphs.
"Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?"
For quite a moment, my gaze lingers on Mr Llevric's hand, before it glides up the sleeve of his grey cashmere sweater.
