Mainly, he consisted of elbows and knees. Freckles ranged all over his stringy arms and legs, which swiveled like they were connected by universal joints. His togs consisted of high-topped round-nosed red canvas toddler-style sneakers with rubber half-moon toes; an enormous, baggy green T-shirt loosely tucked into lime-green checkered polyesther trousers chopped off at the knees using a device similar to a lawnmower.

He could have been anywhere from 30 to 70 years old, either an eroded young fellow or a well-pickled sage.

He had no socks.

And what a curious balding pattern. Like lodged oats.

But the truly arresting thing was this: his T-SHIRT WAS STUFFED WITH BOOKS. About 30 hardbacks and paperbacks bulged out in all directions, belling out the midriff to an impressive degree, giving him the overall appearance of a large, jagged pear with legs. The corner of a slim volume stuck out above the neckline. Pippi Longstocking.

He was wearing his entire library!

Or at least his favorites.