I adore faces.
All of them.
They carry on their surface, the angles, shapes and colours that collectively unify to create an outward appearance.
Their unique, impossibly raw and beautiful story.
Faces cannot lie.
Can you see who they truly are when they meet your eyes?
Can you see their powerful individualism that is their reality?
I love a happy face. One that has warmth and sunshine pinned to its smile. One that smothers you with its bright yellow rays and wraps itself around your every breathing cell.
Every happy face, is a beautiful face.
I love a sad face. I love its vulnerability, it’s impossibly human position. I love how it reaches out, willingly or not, sucks the breath out of your lungs and pulls you in.
Every sad face, is a beautiful face.
Perhaps one of our failings as a human race is our perception of beauty.
Our perception that character, and the insuppressible beauty of uniqueness is imperfection.
I find, that overwhelmingly, the most alluring quality in a face is its powerful mystique. It’s honesty, it’s invisible reflection of the soul, it’s unquantifiable energy, it’s stunning uniqueness, it’s story.
To me, the character in a face is the epitome of human perfection. Beauty beyond definition, for it cannot be measured. Faces blooming with emotion, life and character have endless depth and come with infinite interpretations and possibilities, unlike the finite form of perceived physical beauty.
In the words of Amy Bloom-
“You are imperfect, permanently and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful.”