The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown
blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its [9] reflection on the tropic sea were
on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased
scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as
erosions in a fishless desert.