Over tea and coffee at our table of four he asks me to slide my reporter's notebook across to him. "You see your numbers in color, don't you Maureen?" "Yes," I reply, dutifully passing the writing pad.
"Think of any two numbers one through 10," he tells me. At first I only see them as black on a white background, but soon I've honed in on my five and my two. "You have them?" he asks, scribbling something out of sight, his intelligent brown eyes dancing.