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Description

    Since his arrival at our doorstep, he was far less grimy and frantic, having long since washed and dressed in clean clothes. He was tall, as well: enough so that Hanna’s head didn’t even reach his chest. And yet, upon first glance, there was little of great significance about him. The murmur of his voice and his slumping stature made him merge with every quiet shadow cast, and if you were to place him in a crowded room he would surely melt into the surrounding figures and faces like smoke. His hair was a plain tawny brown and his freckled face seemed pleasant, though quite ordinary.

    That being said, the colour of his skin was certainly a point of bewilderment. It had an unusually prominent olive tone, and I couldn’t help wondering where it was from—surely not here, as any race other than Caucasian were few and far between in those days and, as a result, highly undesirable. His colouring was clearly not acquired from any form of extended sun exposure, as I was aware by then that the boy had been practically underground since 1940; however, he didn’t quite resemble any other ethnicity that I was familiar with. He was a hodge-podge. The softness of his features—as though every hard line of a cheekbone or jaw had been softened at the edges as one moulds clay—contrasted with the prominent slope of his nose, which in itself didn’t quite go with the lightness of his hair and the square-ness of his chin.

    In short, the boy was certainly odd, though not a beautiful nor especially significant creature. No, there were precious few aspects about him that indicated any sort of potential or consequence at all.
-Paper Stars p.39

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colored version of this

Description

    Since his arrival at our doorstep, he was far less grimy and frantic, having long since washed and dressed in clean clothes. He was tall, as well: enough so that Hanna’s head didn’t even reach his chest. And yet, upon first glance, there was little of great significance about him. The murmur of his voice and his slumping stature made him merge with every quiet shadow cast, and if you were to place him in a crowded room he would surely melt into the surrounding figures and faces like smoke. His hair was a plain tawny brown and his freckled face seemed pleasant, though quite ordinary.

    That being said, the colour of his skin was certainly a point of bewilderment. It had an unusually prominent olive tone, and I couldn’t help wondering where it was from—surely not here, as any race other than Caucasian were few and far between in those days and, as a result, highly undesirable. His colouring was clearly not acquired from any form of extended sun exposure, as I was aware by then that the boy had been practically underground since 1940; however, he didn’t quite resemble any other ethnicity that I was familiar with. He was a hodge-podge. The softness of his features—as though every hard line of a cheekbone or jaw had been softened at the edges as one moulds clay—contrasted with the prominent slope of his nose, which in itself didn’t quite go with the lightness of his hair and the square-ness of his chin.

    In short, the boy was certainly odd, though not a beautiful nor especially significant creature. No, there were precious few aspects about him that indicated any sort of potential or consequence at all.
-Paper Stars p.39

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colored version of this