On the bus this morning I met a 28 year-old man who had come to America from Sudan about four years ago. He sat in the back corner of the bus, an immense living barrier between the world and his tiny wife, who slept with her head against his chest. I never asked his name but he had beautiful, perfect teeth. He is attempting to get along with humanity these days, having spent many years as a soldier. The first time he killed someone in battle, he was about ten, he thinks, still unsure for what cause he was fighting. Now he believes in compromise, in empathy. "I will have no more enemies," he says.