He couldn't be seen. That was the first thing you noticed about him.
No,
no, that's not quite right: it would be more accurate to say that
he couldn't be seen in his entirety.
He could only be glimpsed in bits.
A chesire-worthy flash of smile, the blur of a forelock falling
across
a face you couldn't quite make out, a half-seen gesture, a profile more
imagined
than actually seen. The human mind insists, however, on
arranging whatever it sees into the patterns
with which it is familiar –
it's the reason why we see castles in clouds. And it's the reason
that
he became the world's most famous man. Whenever he strode on stage,
each
member of the audience saw exactly what he came to see. He was
The Man Who Was The Man You Wanted.
And he could do no wrong;
unless, of course, wrong was what you wanted.
