Look. There he is. You've seen him before.
Yes, you have, you just might not have noticed him. Doesn't he look self-important? See the look on his face? Chin high, looking down his nose at those first years, daring them to break the rules.
I told you you'd seen him before. He's handsome, in his way. His eyes are hard and cold. They flash behind his glasses. If you have seen him before, have you ever really thought about him? Why not? If you don't know the answer, I do.
Look, now, he's turned a corner. He doesn't know we can see him. He's going into that room; he's closing the door behind him. Now look at him. Surprised, aren't you? How different he looks. What would you say he was now? Uptight? Fussy? No, you're right. Tired is much better.
Tired, weary, lonely. Oh, he's taking his glasses off, sitting down. Do you see his eyes now? Are they cold? No. They're kind, but they're very sad. Oh well, you can't see them anymore anyway, not with his hand in the way.
I know his hair is beautiful. Good grief, you really have never looked at him, have you? Never mind, you're looking now. There's someone knocking at the door. Look closely now; the glasses go back on, the hardness is back. He stands up. Hasn't he changed again? Whoever it is at the door has not seen what we saw. They can't know.
And what is it that we don't know? Can you tell me? Alright, I'll tell you. We don't know this : What has made him this way? What has made him into this lonely, masked creature? I don't know. I could guess. But I'm not going to.