The faces blur.

The face of my confused father saying good night to his wife who is leaving him once again for the night.

The face of the woman whose anger expresses itself in weird fiece cheerfulness as she arrives late and leaves early for everthing.

The face of a young father who conceals a secret grief with smiles and competence.

The face of the man speaking loudly to the air above the crowd not knowing his stupidity kills ideas and love.

The face of the nurse blankly reading a magazine.

The face of the banker ridiculously grinning talking listening to something in his earpiece.

The face of the young violinist whose out of tune notes are brave and beautiful to me.

The face of the singer who sings with her absence.

The face of the dead composer speaking and singing in my head.

The face of the man who smiles and doesn’t know his own cruelty.

The face in the mirror mutely staring back.