He was his sunglasses.  He could see perfectly well, but these were as much a part of his outfit as his long black ponytail. Reasonably, he wore the sunglasses while his children monopolized the swimming pool. Then he wore them in the lobby while reading the newspaper and chain-smoking.  He wore them in the morning as he cut in front of other people waiting for tea and drained the last drops without compassion. He wore them in the dinner buffet line as he pointed to the fish he wanted and the chicken he did not.

However, upon checking out, he thoughtlessly propped his shades on the top of his head. As he crossed the hotel hallway, his eyes showed. This didn’t mean he looked around while dragging his huge suitcase down the narrow passage, without yielding to anyone, thus forcing the other guests to flatten themselves against the walls.

But…