I wake up with one face. Fall asleep with another. I love faces. I always have. Most of the art in my home is a face of some sort. Abstract, pop, outsider, or straight up real - I find them easy to live with and good company. How about you? A poem by Rainer Maria Rilke Buddha In Glory Center of all centers, core of cores, almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet-- all this universe, to the furthest stars all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit. Now you feel how nothing clings to you; your vast shell reaches into endless space, and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow. Illuminated in your infinite peace, a billion stars go spinning through the night, blazing high above your head...