He has a strange sensation in his hands. He says they feel as if he’s just come in from the cold, numb and bulbous. It all started with his most recent bout of idleness. His hands are used to writing, clawing, begging. He fears, however, that this sensation will remain, even when he departs his moment of respite. He’s a smoker and says that can cause poor blood circulation. But who is he to judge? He is not God. He is the damned.