Fierce was his countenance and the arrival of him could only create one emotional atmosphere–fear!
The edge of his beards looked like the sharpened edge of swords used by Persian warriors. His gait was that of a threatening beast–the giant African elephant. His voice had the cracking of thundering lightening. There he was,full of bouy and void of compassion–the macho man.
These were the images that were constructed in my mind as I thought of the man who seemed to derive his pleasure from inflicted pain and solace from the turmoil of others.
His eyes evoked tremor and the thundering of his voice was like streams of flowing lava.Just as I was in my ideological crossroad,i thought about him–the macho man.I wondered if he had any spot in his heart where he considered the weak and feeble or if masculinity to him was only a matter of testosterone and adrenergic surge.