"The second man could have been mistaken for a child. A horribly burned child in desperate need of a skin graft: that was my first impression. This individual, roughly five feet tall, stood in a corner of the room. He wore blue jeans and a plain white cotton T-shirt. His shoulders were broad, his eyes were wide and bloodshot, and his arms seemed a trifle too long for his abbreviated torso. But what was most striking about him was his skin. His skin was glossless, ash black, and completely hairless. wasn’t wrinkled in the conventional sense—it wasn’t loose, like a bloodhound’s skin—but it was deeply textured, furrowed, like the rind of a cantaloupe."
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Wun Ngo Wen
