I feel it on me—the gaze of others. Those eyes full of suspicion, curiosity, fear. Those fixed eyes trying to decode, to understand, while my brother and I try to protect him.
Sometimes people tease him. That's allowed, if they love him. But strangers? No.
My gaze turns fierce.
Children are drawn to him. They sense the purity of his soul and play with his belly, his hands.
Some show a persistent curiosity and a bit of fear toward that (good) giant as he approaches with an outstretched hand.
More often than not, I'm happily surprised by how available and sensitive "others" can be. They come near smiling, answering his greeting, giving him an apple, a flower, or simply a bit of their attention.
Stefania, 1996