I was sitting at the back of the hall by myself one year, and so the elder had to walk over to me specifically.
When he got right up to me, I motioned with my hand and nodded my head in acknowledgment.
He froze and went white. I didn’t touch it.
He stood there like he was going to pee his pants, and he wouldn’t move on.
He stood there some more.
Finally, I reached out my hand to touch the glass. I didn’t take it mind you. Just a brush.
The color came back up into his face like a glass filling with pink lemonade.
Off he went, satisfied.
Do you see the picture of a man immersed in superstition?
And they are all like that.