I am an artist

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It was a nice afternoon so I decided to leave my room to write. As I sat down with notebook and pen in hand an Asian fellow, of the Oriental cut, in a nice suit jacket and jeans, walked by and greeted, Hey man, in such a familiar tone that I wondered if we'd met and, of course, said, Hey man, back. I felt obliged to add, Nice seeing you, although I couldn't conclude ever having seen the man before in my life. Then he turned and said, "You're an artist. I can tell by looking at you!" and resumed walking.

How's about that! 

I've been mistaken for a shoplifter, a shifter, a walking cock and a drug peddler but scarce are the eyes that receive me for what I am and striving to become more of. If that ain't encouragement, then just call me obtuse.

When was the last time a perfect stranger startled you with a kind assessment?