What draws me to this painted face? The colors speak before I do, a mask I slip on, and suddenly, I am both here & not.
Each layer of paint, a bridge between the world and me. A dance of light & shadow, a reflection I don’t recognize, but also do.
The mirror hold my gaze-the smile that lingers longer than expected, as if the face it shows is both mine and new. A shift I wear without noticing.
The mask, a ritual that shapes & shields. Yet, in its folds, I find a piece of myself- a quiet whisper, half-forgotten, still playing.
