I’d slept for only four hours that day. When I was looking at his face, I saw another face. It was as if an artist had drawn it smoothly into the natural lines, the fine hair, wrinkles, flecks of pigmentation and blemish, the musculature. The other face was distorted by these details like a figure swimming the breast stroke beneath the caustic light reflected from the surface to the bottom of a pool. I don’t think I was seeing the inner child, or the younger man, or myself, or anything just like that. It wasn’t wasn’t him. I blinked and it was gone. He was looking at me. It was as if he looked at me for the first time.
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Joshua Hebburn recently completed his six month cloud observation journal. He recommends “The Fan” by David Marino from the hex archive.