If a verb to express what this is
is to be picked, then the verb is « to haunt ».
The image of that man, laborer (« a person doing unskilled manual work for wages »), father, perhaps the owner of that small property where we found ourselves, built and maintained exclusively with their own hands, haunts me. But this verb seems to imply that he is somewhat responsible for the terror.
The image haunts me, and it is within myself that the discomfort lies. For all he did was to ask, humbly, innocently, if we could help. He did not need to justify it. We could see it. But we could not.
How, in such an encounter, anchored in mutual respect, can you look someone in the eye and say, bluntly, « We cannot help you »? As I try to make sense of that moment, materialized now in a distant memory, it chokes me.
Still, it is not our powerlessness, powerlessness in the face of a strong predicament, in the face of a noble, sad gaze, that haunts me…

I was touched by her — by her being? existence?.
Her stare was profound, and, still, it was not only about her eyes — not only. One could easily read in her face the strength overflowing from the pores, demarcating its expression lines. Her past, unknown to me, touched me. And I cannot understand exactly what emotion I felt standing in front of that woman, timidly trying to return her gaze with humility, but it was powerful. In each blink, there was a struggle. And I knew the suffering was there, even now — hidden, in a way, but there. I imagined she endured every single battle with pride, as if it was not allowed for her to cry, to show how hard those battles were. To slow down. Noticeably, it was not about succeeding: It was not about success. Nor was it about recognition. Simply, instead, (how can one?) about living an honourable life.

I cannot forgive myself for forgetting your name. I asked twice. And I did so because I was supposed to remember, because I wanted to. Yet, it slipped my mind. I don’t forgive myself for letting this happen.

My redemption: I know its meaning – Smile. It matches perfectly with the one you entrusted me with. I can still remember how its beauty struck me; if I close my eyes, I can relive that moment and the amazement I felt.

We had this peculiar, interesting relationship in which one could never really understand what the other meant. Deep down, we both knew that, but it didn’t matter. I suppose we esteemed each other’s life stance, and for some reason, felt safe in that bond (our, if formal, almost solemn). We kept exchanging observations about life now and then as if life itself made sense.

The characters I met throughout my journey in that world – from time to time, walking down the streets, I would recognize them in others’ faces and, mesmerized, would laugh at the situation: How was it that I could remember a handful of such special individuals, now thousands of miles of distance and time away, by stumbling upon complete strangers?