Looking to enter a tiny mosque, I went through a side door and up a winding flight of stone stairs to find a bustling army-surplus store in the upper part of the mosque. This kind man offered to show me the view out his window for a photograph. I pretended to take that picture, but only to gain his trust for this portrait. His walrus mustache, bad haircut, roughly unshaven face are all offset by his kind eyes. Standing is stark contrast with strong similarities, the worn, stone face on the left identified the owner of a grave.