It was tactfully beautiful…the way he spoke about what he did.
He preached about the wonders and majesties of all that is code. He promised me that the compartmentalized jumble of numbers, texts, and symbols would transform into beauty, fluidity, and movement. He spoke as if he was God–able to create and transform with no boundaries. How he needed X to happen, which could be executed through Options A, B, or C.
To figure out the most efficient path–you need to be tenacious, driven, obsessed.
His neck tilted methodically. Rapid and efficient 94 wpm. Every click on the mouse and strike of the keyboard was executed with purpose. Ctrl + s. Ctrl + r. The structure, he reminded me, needs to be clean and organized. He preached and practiced scalability, readability, flexibility. He flicked and picked at his thumb mindlessly, clicking his tongue at errors. I watched him, processing his code like a robot with steely ice blue eyes.
But when he looked at me to speak about his work, his eyes softened to a muted blue. His fingers and the movement of his hands looked as if he was molding clay, as if the air was malleable.
With his brows furrowed, he looked at the glaring screen of indecipherable text like an artist looking at his canvas. I realized that he could see the text in the picture, and the picture in the text. He described the glory of creation, the grandiose and liberation that comes with finally solving a problem and arriving to the perfect outcome. He promised me that if I follow the path of this jumbled of text, at the there was a beautiful site where everything lives seamlessly together and the sky and seas are the perfect blues (#3366FFand #3399FF).