Whenever I try and picture anyone else’s eyes, I can’t.
Never have been able to, despite my great imagination.
Now hands; hands and nails, I remember.
How someone holds a cigarette, touches their lips, wears their rings, or bites their nails; that’s easy.
Even 25 years later, I can still picture some people’s hands.
But their eyes?
I’m ashamed to say, not even my kids
Recreate in my mind’s eye?
I can see them without trying.
I could paint them from memory.
Somehow, this means something.
The known unknown.