Coming across the Ostrich in the library, his nose literally in a large book. Not for him Cost-Benefit Analysis, Rostow's take-off, Pareto's curves. He would be reading poetry from old musty books that perhaps no one looked at except him. He once looked up at me as I passed, his eyes weird and bulging from the strain he was putting them through. He quoted the Andalusian poet Ibn Zaydun, Yes, I have remembered you with longing, at al-Zahra, when the horizon was bright and the face of the earth gave pleasure, and the breeze was soft in the late afternoon, as if it had pity on me. I smiled at him then, wondering if he could see my smile, knowing he was memorizing the poem.