Can someone critique the opening sentences of this short story please?

The Californian sun rose over the dusty dried boulevard, illuminating the yellow and white bungalows. The light fell through the tears of a curtain in a worn down shed to a man’s face. The man was scarred, his scabs covering and questioning his secrets and the motifs behind them. The sun awakened him slowly; as his dreary eyes expanded he collected himself to feel shocked in his surroundings. The shed was tin and the dirt floor was littered with cans of alcohol and broken gl. The man began to reminiscence over the maddening events that took place no more than six hours ago, and gave a shudder. He had taken to the shed for refuge. Along with the man’s bruises and gashes to his face, his entire body was masked in dirt like a disease. He had no belongs with him, it was as if he was homeless and entirely alone in this bewildering world he was in.