They are as faceless as they are nameless. I think, as you get older, it gets worse, this thing called recognition. Soon the faces run together like too much paint on a canvas. White, black, yellow, red, pretty soon one person looks like another and there are over 7,324,782,225 of them to taunt our shoddy memory. "Hey, you!" is followed by "Yo! Bud!" and "Excuse me, ma'am?" or, "Oh, miss!" Don't you just hate when your wait staff wears large lettered name tags and you still can't recall their name when you need the refill on your coffee? And, go ahead; try to confuse me by being transgender. It won't help to give you a face. It doesn't make you special. I can still acknowledge you as one of the faceless masses and dismiss from my mind just as easily as I can anyone else.
To read more of this post, please follow this link to "The Path": The Faceless
