The Face

Is there a single thing in nature that can approach in mystery the absolute uniqueness of any human face, first, then its transformation from childhood to old age— We are surrounded at every instant by sights that ought to strike the sane unbenumbed person tongue-tied, mute with gratitude and terror. However, there may be three sane people on earth at any given time: and if you got the chance to ask them how they do it, they would not understand. I think they might just stare at you with the embarrassment of pity. Maybe smile the way you do when children suddenly reveal a secret preoccupation with their origins, careful not to cause them shame, on the contrary, to evince the great congratulating pleasure one feels in the presence of a superior talent and intelligence; or simply as one smiles to greet a friend who’s waking up, to prove no harm awaits him, you’ve dealt with and banished all harm.