Sprinkled onto the canvas of the face were moles, freckles, wrinkles, scars, and defects. Together, all of those things gave each person a unique face...He tried to remember the Walt Whitman poem, but all he could remember was the first line, “I sing the body electric.” He recalled that it was a celebration of the human body, but couldn’t remember the details. He remembered studying anatomy in art school. It had been a dry subject without the kind of passion expressed in the Whitman poem. He. You get the idea. On and on I complained.I very rarely behave that way, I could tell it was annoying Him. Grating on his nerves, in fact. He kept giving me warnings, I'd go off on a tangent and He'd give me The Look that means I’d better stop it. So, I'd stop, for a moment. Then something would happen (or nothing would happen) and it would send me into a new rant. Finally, after several hours He stopped giving me The Look. It seems that I'd graduated to a word or two, "Dee?" He'd say, that. More

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