I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single
countenance as if held in a mould.
I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face
whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful it was.
I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth face in which all things
were graven.
I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the
reality beneath.
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