Soillis stresses the level of connection he feels with the people who populate the Square.

“Harvard helped me a lot,” he says. “Of course I cannot help Harvard; they don’t need my help. I wish sometime before I die to do something for the Square, for the professionals, for the young people, because the University gave me a lot of help. If someone comes to this country and he doesn’t appreciate what this country can give to you, [he] is a person who is not worth a penny.”

Several customers come into the store and he greets each warmly. Most are older citizens bringing dress shoes and snow boots; a few are students. They inquire about his family, his business, his life in general. He is positive and staunchly buoyant.

It is these people, he says—his customers, the other tenants in the building, those he sees on his way to and from the shop—these are the people who have made his life what it is. When his wife was sick for almost three years before her recent death, they sent him notes of encouragement, left gifts on his doorstep, and helped him get though a period of time when his life was anything but easy.

Soillis emphasizes that he never ceases to be grateful for the life he has lived.

“I’m lucky. Love, support, trust—when you get that, you must keep it, and give respect, and try to give it back,” he says.

Soillis is overcome by emotion when reminiscing about the life he has led in the Square. He exudes passion for the career which has led him across continents and across languages—when, he says, little save his determination and conviction have sustained him.

“Anything you put on your mind to do, you can do in this country, as long as you’re honest and work to get the trust from the people,” he says. “You have to think, ‘I’m very lucky to have these people come to me.’”