He didn’t know I was watching. I was glancing at the text over his shoulder. I also had my own words to write. It didn’t seem real. I was observing a translator at work. Much of the work happened in his head, and how could I see what was happening there? I could imagine thoughts, images, emotions, and whatever else might appear in a mind or in a body or in both simultaneously. I could record the experience, moment to moment. Did I want to be inside someone else’s head, in an imaginative way? Maybe I didn’t have a choice. Maybe it was my destiny to experience others in this way. Seconds, maybe minutes, of mental and body contact ensued, and I wanted out. He was in too much emotional fluctuation for me. I imagined a calm sea. Then a storm arrived. My mind couldn’t handle strong winds. That wasn’t true. I seemed to be dealing with emotional turbulence in a symbolic way. The translator was creating a new text, in English, from the Chinese one he’d started with. A calming idea came to me: maybe the translator was me, and I was discovering what it was like to be in my own mind. Now I knew I was capable of observing myself. Maybe it was my inner destiny.