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.