Remedy for Cold Heart

Tonight, coming home very late from work, a Buddhist monk sat next to me on the train.  At least I believe he was a Buddhist monk.  Red robe.  Shaved head.  Saffron bag.  (Also, a swanky looking watch and cell phone upon which he was reviewing his texts.)

I actually had my eyes closed -- I was at school for 13 hours today -- but this person had a palpable energy field that I was aware of when he sat down.  Once I got a gander at him, it was all I could do not to stare.

He pulled a thin paperbound book out of his bag -- the book was written in some script that I didn't recognize, but the title was translated on the cover as Remedy for Cold Heart.  As he flipped through the book, I could see photographs here and there in the pages -- a picture of two polar bears; a bloody cow skull with horns; some more indistinct photographs that involved blood and animals.

I wanted to ask him what it was about, but all I could do was try to stare as unobstrusively as possible.  

At Grand Central, he uncrossed his Topsider clad legs, and swept out the door of the train.