He can’t be the herculean officer who he was once before his succumbing defeat in the local election. Today, what were now only left from him were his clothes, his bearded face and above all his subconscious instinct to speak in public. The middle-aged mad beggar championed in the middle of the plaza, not to give a platform speech but to utter vigorous randomness and vague topics which only he can comprehend.
I regretted the attention I gave because when our gaze met; I was terrified by what I saw:dark eyes grimaced from the ostentatious character. He was dangerous.
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