Shy I, they call him. Corners are his niche, he hides behind them, peering out at the passing throngs. He likes windows, too, for the multiple corners and angles; the blinds and curtains add more barriers between his body and the world, yet allow his eyes a full hungry stare. Sometimes, in the open, he stands halfway behind a bush, but the prickly organic shape doesn't afford him the protection he likes. He frames the world in angles; preferring details to the whole. He likes life, he does, but not in full-fledged quantities that threaten to overload his synapses.
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