By Gene Farmer
The guy in the turban was always sitting alone. I mean, the whole canteen was always jammed to the rafters, but this guy always had a table to himself. Not that it seemed to bother him so much. He’d be sitting there every day, calm, peaceful even, eating his meal with what I’d call a slow relish. If I had to describe his demeanour with a single word it would be: serene.