I was standing in front of my office one day when a colleague from another department ambled.up. He's squat and strong and looks not so much like a professor as a woodchopper， with thick forearms like a pair of rolling pins， and hairy hands that are usually half-clenched. He.exudes an enviable vitality; you have a feeling that he might live 120 years.\"How are you?\" I asked. And he told me-for 10 minutes running.He informdd me in detail about his.children's doings， his summer vacation， his ever-improving tennis.game， and his，multiple lecture engagements for the upcoming term. He spoke quickly and，with a sense of dignity， as though this was a public occasion，as if he was being interviewed by a television reporter and was often so interviewed;he took answering the question about his well-being as a slightly arduous duty， but one that， owing to his stature，he was compelled to fulfill in a comprehensive way. When he finished his disquisition， he grunted， turned his back， and lumbered off down the corridor.\"Nice talking.with you，\" I said. He faced me once more. \"You're welcome，\" he said. He turned again and was on his way.