. . .shoulders heaving softly, before this crooked man raises his ragged hood and tattered face up, towards the lighted proper.

The flesh that hangs in old tatters across the man's face reveal a solid, white eye, and almost half of the man's face missing. Torn off--old, these wounds have healed over, with horrid, ripped scars. Half the man's jaw. . . is simply gone.

The man, if such he may be called, may be well into his sixties. Or...he may only be into his late thirties. In his state of being, it is really...quite...hard to tell....