This is moving and wonderful. Those faces always seem to speak to me mutely. It feels personal but I know it isn’t. When I was a kid I had this panelled set of two eyes that stared out at me on a vertical slant in the wall right next to my bedside table, where I read. My mom designed and my dad built that house so I always felt they were there for me. They seemed so stuck, so poignantly caught and stilled. Recently the forest trees surrounding the wooded place by a pond where I go to meditate, write, and sit were cut back extensively. I’m not sure what sort of disease they were supposed to have had, but that was the reason I was given for felling them. I want to find out. They were predominantly pines. It’s very different there now. I haven’t looked closely at the stumps and limbs; too hard to do. But I think I will. Thanks for this.