Wonderful and thereabouts
A gentleman with white hair and the jaw of a solitary wolf travelled round from city to city. He had ended up in strange situations, some turned into trouble and so he had to leave the places where less solitary wolves wanted to get their own back. He had never really wanted to work but recently the desire to work had left him completely and showed no signs of coming back. He had to live, however, so he came up with creative ways to guarantee a meal and a proper bed. If that meant tricking other people, wonderful, he said, you could always put it right anyway. Irony was the weapon he had perfected with great dedication and it was to this that he owed everything, including a pleasant charm, like the summer sun in the late afternoon. And if he chanced upon a triumphant coffee in the early morning and a sweet of the same rank, with droplets of white light glittering on the sea, it was all wonderful enough, for the whole day and even more.
The only thing he really hated was the smell of naphtha, which made him vomit uncontrollably, leaving him exhausted and despondent like a drunkard. For this reason, he hated fishermen, and whoever stepped on a boat, including sailors and the children that fall asleep at the first puffs of the engine.