They were in absolute awe, staggered and stammering, “Who is this, anyway? He calls out to the winds and sea, and they do what he tells them!”
Friday, July 20, 10:57 am
A face emerges from the gloom. It’s dust-caked, with sweat and – is that blood? He is young, at least 10 years younger than me, maybe more, and he’s wearing some kind of heavy jacket, a backpack, and leather work gloves; he can’t be much taller than me, although I am rather tall for a woman, 5’9”, and despite all the clothes he looks slender and fit. His short, curly hair sticks out in all directions, also covered in dust and spiking in strange directions, so coated in filth I can’t even make out what color is. It looks dirty blond, but everything looks dirty right now. His eyes are hard to see in the light but they’re definitely not dark, and what I can see of his face, which is mostly covered with some piece of fabric, has this firm, resolved, set look that barely hides some other emotion: Fatigue? Anger? I can’t read him.