Sun Mar 22 23:27:29 GMT 2009
Doughy, middle-aged man creates a world around himself with a red-top newspaper, two walls of contemplative privacy to cut out the passengers butting up against his shoulders. Lips upturned in an expression a child's drawing would use to signify displeasure or unhappiness. Layered with something more wry, though; the facial shrug of a man surveying the idiocy of the world and feeling no compulsion to rail against it. His hair has faded from his temples but is still thick, and is brushed into a slightly unruly side parting. His spectacles are gold-framed, lenses lightly tinted, and they sit somewhat askew on his nose as though they've weathered many accidental drops and knocks. Thick fingers, and strong looking, but with none of the stiff functional muscularity of the hands of a man used to heavy manual work. Gold wedding band as permanent as if it had grown there of its own account.