What is in a face? Why are we all so intrigued by a face? is it because it contains all our history, all that we are, all that we will be? When I look at a face I try to see the person´s personality, how they would react to certain events. Have they ever suffered. I look through the ebbs and flows of the skin to read their story. In their already formed wrinkles there are fragments of time that have remained there, always living in the past. It is as if something so meaningful marked them forever. Was it a smile produced by a happy joyous moment. Was it a scream caused by a moment of terror and surpise?

Faces, is that all we are? Is that what we characterize ourselves to be, just faces? If we loose our limbs are we still ourselves? I recall a very heated discussion about Frankenstein in a literature class back in college, and the professor asked us is he still himself even his body is composed of other people? Is he still human? And I said yes, because our true selves lies within our minds or souls, thus even if we have artificial limbs we still remain ourselves. So do we only reain ourselves because of what we remember? Because of our thoughts, ideas, and dreams? A person with amnesia, is he or she still the same? Do their life experiences linger somewhere else? Like a scar? Like wrinkles?