There lived a Woman who was sweet, kind, vulnerable, gentle, soft, cheerful, impetuous, bold, joyful, desperate, understanding, wise, beautiful.
This Woman was very fulfilling and valuable. But, here, one misfortune – no one appreciated her on merit. And all because she did not have her own face. She gets up in the morning, goes to the mirror, and there looks at her … Nobody.
She stared and stared at her reflection, but there were only cloudy shadows. When did she lose her face? She couldn’t remember. Maybe a long time ago, maybe in her childhood. The Woman struggled to remember what had happened to her? Why had she stopped seeing her braids and unruly bangs in mirrors? But all in vain.And then, looking at her reflection, she remembered what people said about her and blurred images appeared in some face and the Woman with a sigh of relief: “Well, thank God, I have a face and now I can go out of the house.But the strange thing! It often happened that she went out with one face, but after talking to colleagues at work, or with friends at the cafe, or with her family on the phone, she returned with a completely different face. The woman vaguely guessed the reason for this phenomenon, but shrugged off unpleasant thoughts and continued to desperately look for some face in her mirror in the morning. And for the time being, she was satisfied with this state of affairs.
But once at work, the woman got very nervous when a colleague in a fit of anger told her a lot of crooked, harsh, ugly words. Upset, she returned home, took a shower, and looked in the mirror. But she saw there not a reflection, but blurred swollen brown spots with black streaks. sighing, the woman thought: “It’s from fatigue I can’t see anything.
I must sleep and rest. In the morning, broken, as if she was run over by a truck, the woman washed her face. For a long time cold streams of water gave her back her ability to think and move.-We need to make coffee, – suggested the waking brain.
She perked up at the good idea and wanted to smile at herself in the mirror. But from there still frighteningly spilled out on her brown swampy spots.The woman was terribly afraid. – How could it be? How would I go out to people without a face?
Panicking, she rushed about the rooms, knocked over chairs and floor lamps, and finally, after hitting her leg painfully, she fell asleep on the sofa, cradling her legs and burying her head in her lap, but this did not calm her down either. She felt as if an ugly slurry was dripping down her legs to her feet instead of her face. And now they were squelching in her like a cold autumn puddle… – Stop!
How to live with this? – And then she remembered the painter, who drew portraits of passers-by in any season. And she also remembered that if someone did not like his face on the canvas, the painter would carefully wipe it off and correct the defect.
She waddled into the park, a wide scarf hiding her suffering. The painter sat idle, gently going over his brushes. A woman stopped and nervously swayed nearby.
He noticed her and politely asked: – “Would you like to commission a portrait of yourself? – Yes,” she replied, “only, I have a problem! – The painter didn’t move an eyebrow, took out a blank canvas, laid out the paints and with a soft gesture invited her to sit down. – Let’s begin, madam! Where shall we begin? – With what?
With the face! Pretend me with any face at all, as long as I have one! – Madam, isn’t it because you rely on other people’s opinion of you that your face, to put it mildly, has the appearance of a face that has no appearance at all? I’ve been painting portraits for years! Believe me, lady, to portray a true face, people fight with me for every stroke, every wrinkle, dimple on the cheek, or hollow on the neck. You try too.
The woman stood there in confusion and remained silent.-OK, I’ll help you,” the artist decided, “let’s start with your wishes. What do you want to see in your eyes? The woman finally came out of her stupor and said: – I want it to radiate a quiet joy… – Well, I think that’s possible. The artist thought for a while and drew the first lines. She nodded accordingly and asked him to continue drawing.
The woman spent half a day in the square agreeing on the smallest details of the portrait. She was so inspired that her heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird hovering over a flower. And now, as the sun began to hide its rays behind the houses of the city, the portrait was ready. She generously paid the artist, took the portrait and went home.
The rest of the evening the woman looked at it, studying every drawn line, curve and shadow. She did not want to look in the mirror. She fell asleep holding the painter’s work, and in the morning she woke up in a good mood, easily got out of bed and ran to the mirror, but halfway there, she stopped and pictured in her mind every detail of her portrait of yesterday. The Artist’s work pleased her to the point of giving her goosebumps. Emotions flew and stirred her whole body with pleasant sensations.
Slowly, but confidently the Woman approached the mirror. She finally saw her face, just like in the portrait. And no wonder, she had ordered one for herself. Yes! This is the face she wants. It was her own and no one else could change it! The woman was sure of it!
