He stares in the mirror, turning his head this way and that to memorise every contour; every blemish and everything that makes him ugly or handsome or even beautiful he takes note of and tries not to forget when he walks away.

There’s always something though, at least one feature that he ends up leaving out. He doesn’t know if memorising your own face is harder than it looks, or whether it’s just him who’s having such difficulty, or whether it’s something that must be learned instead of remembered or given.

He’s heard that looking at your reflection upside-down actually helps, because then you end up memorising shapes and sizes instead of focusing too much on the parts that make you unhappy or unsatisfied. And he’s man enough to admit where there’s something wrong with him, or at least not quite right and he has to start all over again (because he can get quite forgetful as long as he chooses to allow it to happen).

This practice of self-examination keeps him alert and sane, so that when someone asks, he’ll always be ready and able to identify himself, and thus never lose his way home.


Blah blah blah

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