God.

Right in front of me there was an elderly man. But he was not an average elderly: he was THE elderly, because he was the oldest and the least old man I’d ever seen. He was so old that it seemed that he had been created with our own world. It seems impossible to describe him perfectly in detail, but I’ll try my best: he was wearing a very dark cassock. It covered his feet and it slithered, like, 4 inches over the ground, all torn and tattered, what highlighted his monstrous appearance. He was tall and had broad shoulders. The clothes were a little tight, revealing the rippling lines of an athletic body, as though he was at the peak of his youth. The other way around, his face showed an opposite age. It bore extremely deep wrinkles, as if he had been old for millennia. His forehead had visible lines, looking like it had been intensely creased. His severe look was emphasized by his hairy and thick eyebrows. His nose was big, and looked broken.

His beard hit the area below his chest, and seemed as white as snow at a first glance; however, as I would later realize, the sun beams made it shine lightly in all different existing colors. He had long straight gray hair which covered his shoulders, and which I couldn’t behold in all, since he also wore a big hat with a very large brim that hid it. Laced in a gray strap, a feather rose above the man’s head. It contrasted with the blackness of the hat for being extremely white.

As you might have noticed, I left the eyes of the entity to be described at last. If they had been closed, he would show an idea of lordliness and mystery and power and divine. With the eyes open, this mix of sensations was ten times stronger. The first time I looked at those mysterious dots, they were not staring at me: they were scanning the room filled with curiosity, as though they had never seen anything alike, and found it all breathtaking.