He is the person never ordering the same drink twice. He is challenging the teenagers at Mario Kart upstairs and trading anecdotes with the old guard in the kitchen during the party. The “diversify guy” cannonballs into fresh pools and laughs at every splash along the way, not just dipping his toes.

How unique is he? He is not gathering only pastimes like stamp collecting. His North Star is instead curiosity. His fervent passion for salsa dancing, handicrafts, and astrophotography is not half-baked. He is learning basic calligraphy one week; the next he is discussing the acidity of single-source coffees. People pay attention, sometimes perplexed and sometimes delighted as he leaps from fencing technique to jazz improvisation before the coffee is even cold.

He does not define life in terms of the safety of his decisions. Remember when your neighbour tried sourdough, gave up, and called it a day? Instead he would be the man creating beetroot bagels. Failure is stickers on a bag, badges of a trip well-traveled, not some sad mess for him.

His desk at work is a live mosaic of origami cranes, old puzzles, perhaps a Rubik’s Cube missing a color. He adds quirky thoughts to brainstorms: “Ever thought about solving this like a chess endgame?” Should the team be stumped, he is the wildcard generating a breakthrough. Though everyone’s thinking more by the end, sometimes it works and sometimes it does not.

Bring up his personal life; you never know what would come out. He spent last month literally climbing a tree researching apple grafting. He created mezcal cocktails last night to complement his Oaxacan mole experiment. Odds are he has a lo-fi record somewhere on the internet too. He is multitasking, learning, constantly changing.

People wonder: Is this kind of tiredness of life? He pauses. Yes, certain days he’s spread thin, a bit like too much butter on hot bread. Still, he seems to flourish on the variety. The excitement comes in learning, not in getting here. “Why wear only one hat when you can try on twenty?” he would ask.

Young children understand it. Watch them in a playground for five minutes; swing, dig, race, laugh— Reset and repeat. He’s kept onto that instinct somehow. Not afraid; just keep looking for the next swing or mud puddle.

Conversations with the diversify guy could seem like trying to capture fireflies on a warm evening. Brief, brilliant, and sometimes difficult to pin down. He will, however, leave you with a narrative, a lesson, perhaps a new beetroot bagel recipe, and a weirdly particular song selection.