I wake up to these eyes hanging on my wall. Penetrating. Questioning. And the Cyclops resting eerily awake as if startled from a dream. Every day is another self portrait. Another chance to add to the collective masterpiece. The crease of a wrinkle. The curl of a lip. Color that comes and goes. I wonder what he knew. What he would tell me. Time to go make breakfast
Creative prompt: Take a stab at a self portrait. With words or pen, cloth or playdough, notes or movement. How is it different today? How will it be different tomorrow? Find the mirror that best reflects who you are.