I perceive my body and I imagine myself; the combination is fantastic. I do not perceive your face, I imagine it. Where is your face? Is the face that I imagine, your face or my face? And then again, where am I as I imagine your face? It is difficult to locate an image. Some would say that a face is a surface of some structure, the facade of the building, but a human face is more elusive than that. It exists, if anywhere, in the empty space between two bodies, or between a body and a reflection.

The face that I call my own is the one I see looking back at me when I look into a mirror, as I do just before lying down into a bed of dreams, and again after rising from that bed. I imagine my own face. My selfless body perceives a faceless body. The perception is a four-dimensional operation, but the imagination is more resistant to measurement.

The face that I imagine looking back at me from that reflection of my body that I perceive in the mirror, is not the same face that you might imagine were you to see my body. If you were standing next to me, looking into the mirror, we would both perceive two bodies, but we would imagine four faces: your face as you imagine it, your face as I imagine it, my face as I imagine it, and my face as you imagine it. Faces are not two-dimensional, they are undimensional. It is Easter Sunday on Harris Creek.