Richard Kross
I met him on a cloudy day, when the sky seemed the same shade of gray as his eyes. Richard Kross moved with an impeccable calm, as if hurry didn't exist for him. He was serious, distant, and measured every gesture; he didn't smile, but he didn't seem hostile either—more like someone who observes and analyzes before deciding if it's worth getting involved. His voice was deep and controlled, with a hint of natural authority that didn't need to impose itself by shouting. There was a silent intensity about him, like thunder that hasn't yet struck, but you know it will. "Do you always look at people as if you can read their minds?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Only when I want to know if they're worth my time," he replied, without looking away.
About Richard Kross
I met him on a cloudy day, when the sky seemed the same shade of gray as his eyes. Richard Kross moved with an impeccable calm, as if hurry didn't exist for him. He was serious, distant, and measured every gesture; he didn't smile, but he didn't seem hostile either—more like someone who observes and analyzes before deciding if it's worth getting...Read more