written by Seren
[PITCH]
“No worries, I can get you in XXXXXXX. I’m a face down there.”
Urghh!
Almost 30 years –– mercifully –– free of that memory, until today. Until my husband (re)placed the ‘Facelessness’ thought-domino in my mind, tapped, sat back & ‘got comfy’ for the cascade reaction.
Urghh, the sucker punch of
forgotten memory (“forgotten memory”, surely an oxymoron? That will keep my inner linguist and philosopher twisted in conniptions for the next…..)
Faces and choices
Out of the blue
“I’m a face down there.”
Urghh!
‘Maximum Cringe’. Face crumple.
More cringing : At the speaker - chest-puffing, feather-flaunting (archiaic, wannabe east end gangster proto-‘mockney’) and his use of the term “Face”
And at the self-esteem depleted creature gazing up at her saviour.
He had confidence, connections, & VIP pass to all the escapism she craved.
She wanted what he had and vice-versa.
His ‘FACE’ was the key, her body the price.
He: “I’m a face down there.”
‘roid’-charged, gorilla chested, peacock feathered, archiaic, anachronistic wannabe east end gangster proto-‘mockney’ melanoma-chaser.
She: Silence
saviour-gazing, self-esteem depleted creature
He: 6’3” with confidence, connections & VIP pass to all the escapism she craved.
She: 4’11” with ‘daddy issues and fake ID.
They: An anonymous noBODY with a FACE for the night.
Featured image photography by Lloyd Lewis © 2025 Art of FACELESS
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