This face is somber, thoughtful. Eyes wide, forehead long, nose noble. It's looking at invisible things, handling them and shaping them through the air. It is figuring things out.

This face is creased with mirth. A smile flashes, smirks. The nose snorts. But the eyes look down, humble. A shrug lifts. Knowing, but laughing still.

This face is ancient, concentrated. Music is conjured underneath it, pulled from somewhere deep, bringing word of buried things, old things, eternal things. Wrinkles line the forehead. The eyes are almost closed. The mouth sings.

None of these faces are my own. I know them better than my own face. They are all beautiful.