You can't hide what's on your face. It's hanging out there for the world to see and unless you go Muslim and adopt the hijab as your attire of choice, you're stuck with what you created. Because, of course, we all design and sculpt, minute by minute through the hours and years of our lives, the face we show to people as we maneuver through our days and nights. It's such a subtle thing; impossible to pin down individual features but the mystical combination of those fleshed out thoughts and attitudes send the message of who we are.
So I'm on the train heading to my workout and I see, facing me three rows down and across the aisle, a man, probably early 40s, with a striking face. Could be an American Indian warrior (maybe a cowboy or two thrown in) with strong cheek bones, hawk nose, intense eyes, short pony tail. If only he had a scar running across his nose and down his cheek. But he has that eye-grabbing look. I don't want to stare so I keep looking at him with my corner-of-eyes technique and wish I could know his back story.
I imagine this:
Me: "Hi. I'm Bill and I wonder if I could hear your back story?"
Him: "What are you, some kind of creepy weirdo?
Me: "No, no. I'm a student of faces and yours fascinates me and challenges me to find out all about you."
Him: "SECURITY, SECURITY."
It's not easy being a wannabe famous story teller.
