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November 09, 2003

Where others saw blurry blobs of color, he was able to read serial numbers etched into the windows of the skyscraper. When others were scared to drive at night, he did not even turn on the lights, became invisible, drove at full speed by cops sleeping in their car, avoided little animals, crossing the road in the depths of the woods. He was maybe not the fastest runner, but he was gifted with the ability to see very clearly, from very, very far away. Even at night. Even with the lights off. And he was also able to remember things he saw. Really well, it was as if he had painted what he saw underneath his eyelids, instantly. He just needed to close his eyes and he could take a second, a third look, at the licence plate of that car a few blocks away, of the little boy, waving out of the airplane window, of the ant, struggling to carry something that looked like a giant grain of rice, downstairs, five floors below him.
He did not tell anybody about the things he saw or how he saw them. He just enjoyed and smiled and moved on. Some superpowers just were not worth it to be given away to this stupid low resolution television.


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