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The beggar wore old, dirty, torn and thin clothes.

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Dread, hopeless and in constant suffering. He has no will to do anything. Moreover, he seems that he is in pain but doesn't want to make action to alleviate it.

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their mannerism is sloppy because they feel hopeless in life so they don't have mood and nergy to live

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His eyes burned holes into my soul, empty and lonely, his face weathered by the turmoils of his life. His hands were rough like leather, clothes tattered as he looked hopelessly at the ground, stomach growling from hunger and starvation. smelt a foul stench from him, a mix of human waste and dirt.

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ragtag, clad in torn, filthy and dishelleved clothes

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Disgust, for these low class peasants shouldn't be in society. Empathy as we know how hard it is to live in todays world

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Threadbare and dirty clothes. There were many holes in the thin fabric.

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His ragged shirt had countless holes of various sizes. His hair was like a rat's nest, matted and all over the place. It was as if he had not combed his hair in an eternity. The soles of his shoes were as thin as paper and were plastered with mud and torn.

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Paper thin clothes with holes and patches, rugged and stained. Shoes deteriorating and old. Overall dusty and dirty.

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they look at the beggar with distaste and scorn :3

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They steer away from his unsightly presence, avoiding the pitying stare that he gives them, covering their noses as to hide away the odour he emitted. Ignored, were his cries for sympathy, as if he were invisible to the human eye. They go walking along as if there was nothing there.

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The beggar was dressed in tattered, mismatched clothes that signified his suffering and hardship. His shirt was stained and threadbare. He wore a pair of broken sandals, exposing his dirty and cracked feet.

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The beggar's dressing is old-fashioned, worn out, moldy/dirty, smelly and looks like a thin and cheap piece of cloth

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Passer-bys ignore him endlessly, choosing not to aid his needs but rather revolt in disgust at his raggedly foul-smelling clothes.

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He look hopeless. His clothes are dirty and torn. There was a loss of light in his eyes.

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The passers-by gave the beggar a glance and turned to a different direction and try to keep away from him as far as it can be. They tried to avoid the beggars as they think they will suddenly follow and ask for money. the passers-by held their breath as the smell of the beggar is very disgusting.

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They have sadness in their eyes

They sound like they are in pain when they ask for help

They feel hopeless as they barely receive any donations given by passerbys

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The beggar is frail and weak, his eyes were lifeless and there are eyebags drooping under his eyes. He looks shrivelled and fatigued

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His clothes were deeply wrinkled and filthy.

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The beggar was in a dishevelled mess, like a lost lamb. A raggedy mannerism, unbefitting of even a beggar, clinging on day to day for the meager flashes of silver that were his only hope.

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Lowered gaze, avoiding eye contact

Hands out stretched in a cupping gesture, hoping for donations.

Hunched posture, from years of hardship and suffering

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The beggar is sitting on some boxes, which are fully filled but must have been used for a very long time. He just sit on these boxes, it seems that he will fell in the next second. His boring eyes look around, but find nothing nearby. Then he starts to read a newspaper which is taken from his box, but it is also very old, and with disgusting smell.

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The beggar looked like a brittle and dry twig, ready to break anytime. The bedraggled man slumped against the wall with his bony arms trying to support his body but no to avail.

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People passed quickly with their head down. Some of them were focusing on their phones. Some were hurrying to catch the bus. Nobody took notice of a filthy old man dressing in threadbare clothes. Nobody heard the weak voice that was asking for help.

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The beggar sits cross-legged on the ground, leaning on the mossy brown wall. He gazes up into the sky, mind wandering elsewhere while his hand subconsciously reaches into the hollow, rusty and empty tin can beside him, feeling for cold shiny coins. After a while, his eyelids droop lower and lower until finally, his mouth hangs open and falls asleep against the wall under the mid day sun.

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Their eyes are hollowed and tired from exhaustion. Their personal hygiene is unkept and they give of dirty and messy looks. Their skin is rough and they are thin as bones. Their backs are hunched and their arms are trembling.

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the beggar's face is covered in dirt as he spends long days under the sun and cold nights in the open air. His scrumpy beard clung onto his chin, unkept and tangled.

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His eyes were full of sorrow and fatigue as his long, white beard ate away at his features. His hair long and matted, unkempt from years of neglect. He was a bag of bones, with dirt adorning his skin as he slumped against the filthy wall, exposed to the biting winds.

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The beggar was thin and tired. He was wearing a old and dirty sweater which is full of holes. He had no shoes, and his feet were rough and cracked. His eyes looked sad and hopeless.

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The bagger's patchy clothes were threadbare, hanging lose on his thin frame, stained with dust and dirt. His shoes were worn down with holes, exposing his feet beneath.

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The bagger looks weak and ready to break anytime. His eyes are dead as if there was no hopes to be seen.

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Passers-by look down on others: Thousands of eyes judge the beggar as they pass by, viewing them as a liability to the society. The citizens of the country bear the weight of poverty. Perceived as an eye sore to the public with dishevelled looks, dirty and unsanitary being a stark contrast to the middle- and upper-class citizens, like white being painted on a black canvas of society.

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A faint ,musty smell permeates the air with its unwanted presence.Heads swivel and eyes leer onto an unpleasantness.A tile adjacent full of shabbiness ,worn down fragments of vibrancy ,catches attention from the outset.Rolling their eyes, the shadow between looms and shallows, until it gradually disappears into a sanctum of darkness

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Dark circles surrounded his soulless eyes, creeping up on him on sleepless nights. He was covered in dirt from head to toe.

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The gaunt face, sunken cheekbones, and a web of complex wrinkles painted his portrait of hardships and loneliness. His skin, clinging to his bones like a crumpled piece of paper- weathered and thin, and on his hands- wounds that will always leave a mark. However, I felt like those eyes pierced my heart, and gnawed away at it, as the light continued fading in his eyes.

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An Italian wearing a red cap and dark blue overalls skip by the beggar while riding a green dinosaur. He cheerfully throws the beggar a handful of golden coins and skips away with his dino.