even god can make a fuck up

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A man stands in front of a mirror in some dingy truck stop bathroom. The sink is slightly rusted and the selfie had caught a sink mid-drip. The tile behind him must have been white at some point but was now had a yellow, faded look. The grout cracked, the tile itself faded. Graffiti in the corner of the mirror read a random number and CALL TO BE SAVED in the corner.]

[Aries is smiling in the picture. His hair is a little longer, dark and curly. His clothing is faded, worn, used. He has a hat pulled low over his face, obscuring most of his brow. But he seems happy. Happier, at least. His teeth are a little… sharp-looking. He’s a little unshaven. His sideburns have grown out a little more. But there’s nothing about his appearance that might suggest he had literally been living in a hole for the last year and a half. One hand is curled awkwardly at his hip and the other is wrapped around his phone.]

[Maybe the most off-putting aspect about the picture is that the man pictures doesn’t have eyes.]

[Not literally, of course. There are eyes where they should be on his face. There are eyes there. And there aren’t. It’s like some kind of mirage. Staring hard into the distance and seeing maybe the flicker of the surface of water but getting closer and seeing, no, that’s just miles and miles of sand. There are eyes. Look closer. There are no eyes. This man had eyes once. He might have given the impression of a friendly and slightly off man initially. But look again. There are no eyes.]

[It’s like looking at a picture of something devoid of all context. Like looking at something much larger.]