Make Yeself at Home.

The first time I saw him was in a bar down by the docks; even if the place had been crowded he would still have caught my eye. 

He was tall and thin like a mast and with hair matted into lumps as if tossed and turned by stormy waves. 

His skin was the colour of the depths, yet dry and cracked as if it were made of shells or sand.

But it was his eyes that held me. Grey and empty like two portholes, yet wild like the sea itself.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked, his voice echoing as if he was speaking from far inside a cave or from the belly of a mighty whale that had swallowed him whole.

I looked around the empty bar and the emptier chairs, it was still early and the fishing boats had not yet returned with their morning catch and thirsty crews......

another part of something else