The Black&White Man

Three days ago I met the Black&White Man.
He said, ”So ... we meet again?”; but I told him I honestly couldn’t remember the initial event that now made this a recurrance.
He said that was fine, but he insisted that we’d met once, long ago, when we were crossing the great ocean as passengers on my father’s ship.
I told him ”ahh...”, and shook his hand, although my memory of him was still totally blank.
The Black&White Man was a fascinating creature.
He had milky-white skin, like when you looked into a bright, dense cloud from an airplane window.
Perfectly set in his semi-Asian looking (and very handsome) face were two infinitely deep eyes, like shiny black marbles.
They reminded me of the starry night sky I once had watched through a round rooftop window, when I was little and still noticed such things.
His whole being seemed to possess a shiny quality, like he’d just been polished, and I reckoned he was very powerful, but kind.
I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but now that I had met him I didn’t regret it.
It might turn out to be useful to know him.