Dostoevsky

He called himself Dostoevsky and he looked the part. He wore peasant’s clothes that looked like they were from another century. His eyes were downcast to reveal the huge droopy eyelids of a stoner. Atop his head there was a cap that looked as if it had come straight out of a Charles Dickens novel. He had long-brown eyebrows to match the long brunette streams of unruly hair cascading out of his hat. His skin was pale and he had a long but extremely handsome face with a rogue, stubble covered chin. His lips bobbled a hand-rolled cigarette or possibly a joint. It was hard to determine.