"By the way, does he know I´m here, Harold, I mean."
"I haven't talked with him in a couple of days", Carl says. He is likely back in holy seclusion."
"Holy seclusion?" say I.
"One of his many control methods", Carl says. "He doesn't like strangers coming here, and so he is indisposed. His way of showing his displeasure."
"Does he even know that you and I know each other?"
"I thought I'd surprise him."
Aaron glares sad and shocked and in apparent great discomfort.
"Griffin?" he says faintly.
"He wants you both to reconcile, I suppose."
"How did he end up here, anyway?"
"First, tell us how he left your community."
"You don't really want to know, do you?"
Tell us anyway, Aaron", Carl says smiling, "I think you need to get something off your chest."
Aaron has returned to colouring more of that intense brilliant red on the breast of the resplendent quetzal he has been recreating on this page of his sketchbook. The bird has taken on its own life. He is truly a talented artist. he looks up at us, sighs, and sets the pencil crayon on the bench next to him...
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