so roland is a big guy, right.
at fourteen he stands taller than a sixteen year old who is described to be tall for a girl. as a man grown, he is tall and heavy enough compared to his father that weights have to be added to the guns to balance them out.
so: roland with stretch marks. his thighs, his flank, the backs of his knees, the broads of his shoulders. not particularly self conscious of them when they first appear, livid and purple, but susan runs her fingers along the lines, even in the places where he hadnât noticed them.
they fade out when heâs old. they become friends with the bullet dimples, the knife slashes; the whip lashes across his shoulder blades and back, the burns, the missing chunk from his calf, his missing toe, his missing fingers.
in the high sun freckles - only a few - bloom up on his nose and shoulders. his lower arms, always, are a little darker skinned than his upper arms. as he ages, the laugh lines deepen, his eyes get their deep crinkles. roland is more map than man. a messy map, at that. but his ka-tet reads him well enough
