There is a hole in the back of your head, the sun shines
into this hole. You are denied a glimpse of it. It could be your face. Others “look into it” the most
public, promiscuous part of your body is invisible to yourself. How obvious. The
thing that kisses, sneezes, whistles and moans is a hole more private than our
privates. You retreat from this dreadful hole into this strange and mundane
blindness, the blindness of your face to itself. You want light a cigarette or
fix yourself a drink. You want to make a phone call. To whom? You don’t know. Of
course you don’t. you want to phone your face. The one you’ve never met. Who you
are.
