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The face is covered in small suns, relaxed. In the hills and valleys of this mask of flesh lie truths, unasked for. On the sides – dried-out mud, dust, and thorny beard. In the eyes – Nothing.

The face twists slowly, lays on one side. Its gaze rests on me and sings a song, through words of hidden meaning. As if it will never rise again, it will lie here forever.

This Face, having gathered a handful of conscience of its own, having torn itself from the tyranny of the mind tyrant, has its own frown.

Unexplained – the Universe chose me in that night, free of all responsibility, to have a glass of oblivion with the Face.

The moon keeps silent, abandoned construction sites fill the Nothing with terrifying truths, hidden in darkness. Dogs, unnamed by the world, taste the dirt under the table.

Lightning strikes in his eyes. I throw myself to catch the truth, illuminated in an instant, but only hit a wall of Mockery. The venom that I swallowed takes its toll – I feel the muscles painfully dry, a lost vein is pulsating on my forehead.

He drags me among stones and thorns, on dusty, desolate paths. Soon unsurmountable cliffs break the nose of the soft dirt. My body is pulled into a wet cave.

The face, whose portrait is stretched on this canvas, is the offspring of a fear, sowed into the fragile, mortal body.

I left fear in the liquor. I dragged his body into a cave, where I dug it in the ground. The moon remained silent. My Face, devoid of all emotion, lied loosely on the skull, the sides and lips hanged on the muscles as on hooks, and in the gaze, there shined a newly born freedom.

This experience in the wild night, having covered its tracks for a moment, would shape the Face of the days, which I would greet – having torn myself from the fear-master, I will have my own frown.