He was tall, well above average height for a man of his generation, the generation just after my father’s or possibly the same one. Eduardo Muriel had a thin moustache, as if he had first grown it when the actor Errol Flynn was still around and had then forgotten to change it or allow it to grow more thickly, one of those men of fixed habits as regards his appearance, the kind who doesn’t notice that time passes and fashions change nor that he himself is growing older- it’s as if time did not concern him and so could be discounted, rendering him immune to its passing-and up to a point he was right not to worry about it or to pay it any attention: by attaching no importance to his age, he kept it at bay by not giving in to it in external matters, he rejected it, and so the timid passing years-which make bold with almost everyone else-prowled and stalked, but didn’t dare to claim him, did not take root in his mind or affect his appearance, merely casting upon it a very slow shower of sleet or shadow.
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