You can’t see it here. You really can’t see it. It’s hard to describe, though, and that’s a kicker because I shouldn’t have to explain. I shouldn’t need to use words. Click, then a picture. And that should be it.
Her hair, when untamed, is the size of the Moon. But I always have Suzie scrape it back like that, and oiled, like black iron. The better to see her face. Her forehead: Suzie smoothes out the three, paper-edge lines, but I make sure she leaves that single small pockmark above the left eyebrow. You see it? And oh, that eyebrow – look how it’s more arched than the other (that’s why I leave the pockmark; it looks like a pinball kicked up by a flicking bumper, a dot of fun in a face of seriousness). Let me cover up her eyes, here. Now that arch is disdain, it’s cruelty. But if you see the eyes. Here.
Ah, but it’s no good. See? No good at all.
We’ll come back to the eyes.