Who is it?

It was always a serious face, a stern face. The forehead warped by couple of deep wrinkles, which seemed to gain a more serious dimension when he looked up at the world. At that same moment, of looking up, the bushy eyebrows seemed to follow the forehead’s lead, bending upwards.

He didn’t smile. At least not at those moments when he was sitting observing, when he though he was being observed, and when he was deep in thought. Without a smile on his face, his eyes seemed colder, piercing, and distant. Distance, that is probably the best way to describe that face. Distant in terms of the absolute immersion in thought, and distant as a form of a shield. A smile on that face would seem too naive, it would make him vulnerable. That is something he could never afford himself.

When he did smile one could tell it was honest, wholehearted, full of hope, with a child like goodness. It seemed to prove that open, warm and happy side of the man. A side which fought hard to come to the surface from under the layers of thought, worry, anxiety and reserve. That side took its reflection in the forehead and the jaw. The jaw was the epicenter of the great tensions. At moments it seemed to tighten so much as if about to pop out of its sockets.

 He seemed uninviting, but as with all things – they are not what they first seem. Everything has a ‘good’ side, and every thing has various shades of grey. The readers of this blog like wise.



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