I had a friend a monk at the Iveron Monastery ..........

I had a friend, a monk at the Iveron Monastery, who every time he met a young visitor that was dowdy unshaven, sloppy, would run to him,  hugging him and talking to him

If he saw a young man again with a tie, a suit, a well-combed leather bag, he would disappear.

I asked him:

"Why this preference?"

"He is happy with himself, he just happened to be here, there is no reason to talk to him"