Can someone rate the first paragraph of my story?

Alone, he walks, drifting through a mysterious land of deep green and immaculate scenes of overgrown wilderness. With every step, he fights off the monstrous mosquitoes and what appears to be horseflies, as overgrown and annoying as the monotonous walking he‘s bound to. Every now and then he conveniently comes across a bush full of fruits. Looking like cherries, except almost watermelons in size, hanging from the strained branches about to break. These delicious and refreshing fruits allow him to replenish his strength long enough so he can continue his seemingly never ending trip. He walks below a break in the canopy of trees, allowing the wall of rain to come down upon him, drenching him from his crude and hurt looking grayish green eyes to his black military issue combat boots. He has little protection from the continuous rain, his torn shirt, showing his perfectly sculpted abdomen to nothing but drenched moss that has overwhelmed the surrounding trees and his dark tan cargo pants that he has cut at the knee to try and control the overbearing heat of the disgustingly, drenched, wasteland. His hair has grown long from his extensive journey, turning into what looks like a willow tree, drooping over his ears and onto his shoulders. He hasn’t showered in days, maybe even weeks, he has lost track of time. The only form of cleanliness he has acquired is from the bitter salt water provided by hateful clouds that seem to be following him on his quest. His legs are throbbing but the anxiety to find his destination will not allow him to stop, not to mention the fear of knowing what is actually within his surroundings. If he stops then he will observe, and if he observes then he will see. Hiding between the curtained windows of vines and overgrowth, weary, almost satanic glowing eyes watch his every move, wondering, wanting, waiting.