It's a variety of blonde shades that change with the light around it. Outdoors it refracts sunshine and creates a rainbow around his head. Indoors it seems to take in the fluorescent lighting and emanate a wholesome winter cabin like warmth in the cold artificial air.
Then there's the curls. Oh my the curls! They wind up tight like a whole bunch of old telephone cords, protecting his skull, only to flick out wildly when he does aerials on his surfboard. Just imagine the curls unleashed to their full length for that split second, whipping a spray of water into the salty air. It's as beautiful like the feathers of a peacock.
The other day Alan got a haircut. I was worried. Everyone was worried. But the results were satisfactory. It was sharp. It was smart. And it still held all the traits of the hair we had grown to love. The curls. The shades. The idea that it could hold mysterious powers. This was a good haircut.
When he walked into the office everyone stood up and applauded. We love Alan's hair.
I wonder what it smells like?