Masks hide nothing and expose at least one thing: fear and the resultant desire to hide.

 

I  have long  stopped believing that I know a gimmick from a truth. I have stopped beleiving that I know anything at all. I do not want to know. i want to live.

 

 

"I have no face; only masks."

" But I am okay so far with both, the face and the masks."

"How do you manage your masks?"

"I do not manage them; I keep trying to peep out from behind them to be noticed for who I am. Masks are beginning to get tired of me by now."

" I am not able to get rid of them. At least one of them -- death -- refuses to go."

"Death is not a mask, nor is life a mask either ....As masks they are painful. See them for what they are, and you will begin to double up in laughter"

“Well I think we can not exist without masks. Masks make  us feel safe"”

 "They do. But slowly and slowly, I am beginning to see that masks hide nothing and expose at least one thing: fear and the resultant desire to hide.  And I also notice that masks are not prettier than your or my face. The faces were are born with are a part of a musical symphony called our being or our persona. You try to take your face away from it, its like missing a note. Symphony will begin jar. Mask does not belong to me, and is therefore dispensable. Face is me, and therefore indispensable.

 

" Try this: instead of hiding your face behind a mask, try to wash it clean so that you fall in love with it. There is some spot of filth on our faces that needs a mask. Remove that spot and the mask automatically becomes unnecessary. No, not just unnecessary; it becomes a burden. Try this."

 

""Mask is  a fact of life. Face is naked and ugly without a mask."

 

"Yes, so long as faces are besmirched with filth, they will look ugly. Wash them clean; the face will look pretty and so lovable."

"Will try.....I think as if we can  not exist without  a mask.

mask makes me feel safe."

"Slowly and slowly, I am beginning to see that masks hide nothing and expose at least one thing: fear and the resultant desire to hide.  And I also notice that masks are not prettier than your or my face. The faces were are born with are a part of a musical symphony called our being or our persona. You try to take your face away from it, its like missing a note. Symphony will begin jar. Mask does not belong to me, and is therefore dispensable. Face is me, and therefore indispensable.