insolitusnemo

His face is drooping and heavy – you can hardly see his eyes and his mouth is in a permanent frown. There are so many wrinkles in his face that some criss-cross over each other But despite his looks, he's the kind of person who's always happy. Whenever I visit him, he tells me funny stories of his past – what he did, the pranks, his friends, his pets, his family. He'd show me pictures, clothes, small souvenirs he'd managed to get his hands on. Sometimes he'd bake cookies or cakes before I came over to share with me. He never had any milk as he hated it – so sometimes he'd call me to tell me to bring my own milk as he knows t

He can never look at anyone in the eye. He always looks at the ground, at his own feet as if they're the most interesting things in the world, or as if his life depended on him staring at the ground. He has never smiled in his life. He has never had the pleasure of buying himself a nice meal. He has never experienced love- who would want to marry him? only someone insane. He has never felt warm - he's always out in the streets, begging for money and always receiving a mouldy penny or two a day. His ribs were starting to show very clearly and he hardly had the energy to move a few steps. He doesn't know what he looks like- his friend reflec