It’s the little things that really makes us different.
Not the faces, not really.
For given enough time the face becomes an interface rather than a feature; a means to an end.
It’s the personal rituals that differentiate one from the other; those behaviours acquired over the years, willingly or unconsciously, that become our stamps.
In this evening I feel stranded. The table I’m sitting in, it has transformed into my very own deserted island far from any shipping lanes. Perhaps when I leave and a couple sits after me it will become a rollercoaster or a shelter or an arena.
And it is so that when I am in this particular frame of mind that I carry out one of my own personal rituals.I drink black coffee. No sugar or milk. Then and only then; matching starkness with starkness.