The thing with facades, you never know what lies behind. Fine-grained walnut, solid and mellow with a patina of years. Red tinges of crumbling brick mingling with dingy yellowed paint. An aging tin building, pockmarked with bullet holes and creeping death called rust.
Most of us put on some sort of disguise. For a variety of reasons, we fear baring the vulnerability of our true selves to many, if any. Most of us join the masquerade unconsciously after a time, our fronts always in place. The danger lies in forgetting or losing ourselves.
The people who seek to penetrate the walls around us deserve the reward of an honest view. But most of all, we deserve an honest view of ourselves.
Peace, dude.
Later.
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