In the silence as we sat across from each other, I began to study him. His face was perched between his wrinkled hands; one a fist and the other holding a cigarette, its sharp smell distracting my nose. The placement of his hands made his cheeks into small little orbs, sitting on either side of his mouth. His graying moustache sat on top of his lip, like a blanket, warm and comforting He had on the smallest of smirks; causing a crease to form just above his chin amongst the sparse whiskers of gray, that covered his face. Wrinkles and crows feet lay all over the canvas of his face, making it look like a weathered piece of paper, that had survived the elements and the ages. His eyes, they were the most unforgettable. At first glance they are ordinary and dull. But when you take a look at them closely; sunken into his face, surrounded by wrinkles and shaded by two, non-existent eyebrows, his eyes are the sky and the ocean coming together, paired with all the wisdom of the world