Faces. I see them everywhere. In rocks and parking meters and faucets and salads. Wood floors, car grills, rust spots, mailboxes, wrinkled pillow cases, sidewalk cracks – oh my god, entire families live in sidewalks. Stains, obviously.
One of my first memories is being in bed as a little kid and seeing a woman sitting in the rocking chair in my room. She had a pleasant face–it was comforting to have her there watching over me. She turned out to be a pile of laundry. Today I saw an old lady in a babushka in a balled-up Kleenex.
It’s distracting! There are so many faces staring out at me from the wood floors of my yoga place that I fall over doing balance poses. It’s too much sometimes– faces shifting into faces, changing shape, changing expressions. I get pulled into their world, and I forget where I am.
I wonder. Are the faces there-there?
And I just happen to see them?
Or are they a creation of my own mind?
What are they trying to tell me?