You ask about the affliction on my face? It is the work of the devil and the wenches in his hire. But I wear my disease as I would a trophy I have pulled from the flames. I lift my face to the light and let it shine as a testimony to my purgation of all that is evil in the world. I glory in the scars on my body, the blood-red color of my beard, the crossed eyes others have mocked me for, until I came to town.
