I don't know his name, where he lives or what he used to do, before. In fact I don't even know why he can barely walk; let's just put it down to old age and try not to let it affect our sleep. Each step takes a few minutes and looks agonisingly painful and yet he keeps taking them. Ice ages come and go and people seem to fly by effortlessly. The canes he uses don't seem strong enough to hold his weight and they tremble with the effort. He makes me think. I'm almost sure that if I were in his shoes I couldn't make the journey he does. I wouldn't have the patience. I wouldn't have the strength. To put it into perspective, you could be forgiven for thinking, if you looked away and then looked back, that he was a statue. A fixed point against a moving background. He follows the same route everyday and all he has to do it are two canes, a lot of courage and a very determined walk. Come to think of it, I think he's my hero.