ABSTRACT
When the ward’s headmistress introduced me to Daniel, I was looking at an ageless young man: he could have been 30 as well as 50. He dressed like a “b-boy” (a hip-hop rapper or street break-dancer): oversized, ragged trousers and T-shirt, worn-out windbreaker, shabby cap. But the deep dark circles under his eyes, a leathery, hardened skin, the strong odor of someone who hadn’t had a shower in days and the lack of most of his teeth gave his figure an aged look.
