apostrophenow

Not far from here, a vigorous one hour hike if you like, there lies a cave with a genuine hermit residing within. He's kind of odd, alien even. Which is saying something, given that my own sensibility is hard for some people to live with. When exploring the high desert alone, you tend not to welcome crossing paths with human beings.

Resembling an older, taller, more decrepit Rob Zombie; he walks, or rather creeps, with a pronounced hobbling gait as if he undoubtedly suffered some severe back injury in the past. He leans into the direction he wishes to go, the body struggles to follow along. He dresses in heavily soiled layers, the finishing touch being a poncho fashioned from what appears to be a lengthy piece of animal hide.

I've yet to make eye contact, but I feel he sees me. I observe him from a distance, his proximity carries an aura. A sort of dread; It's not easy to describe it without implying judgment. I smell him, repulsively sweet, like rancid garbage. Crickets and cicadas go silent in his presence. Birds sit still, while they should take flight. I feel light-headed, almost a high; It's unnerving. The thought occurs to me that his ugliness might be holiness.

In the Old Testament, seeing an Angel was a terrible thing.