The dim light shines in the studio, casting on their faces. These glimpses of themselves, partial illuminations that provided more clarity than the sun itself. The teacher and the student bow in an act of reverent respect – one for his knowledge and one for his earnest desire to learn. They exchange no words, no nods or glances. Instead they let that light in that studio do all the speaking. The young boy holds his head down a beat longer than his teacher. He gave it no thought, it was instinct. Somewhere inside of him recognized that he should do this and that somewhere would guide him his whole life. Somewhere knew this was right. The teacher watched his student in that brief moment before he looked up. He saw in this boy’s youth a reflection of a child from a different time and different place and different race. A boy who felt lost for so long had now found home. Rules in a life without control. A father in a home without family. The boy raised his eyes and the two of them met their gaze. They needed no words in that studio, the dim light said everything for them.