When my young face was smooth I thought mostly of myself but also I desperately wanted to draw pictures full of such mystery to grab the eye and never let go. I longed to tell stories in such a way as to make others laugh from their insides out and to break up thinking into new synaptic patterns and designs.
When my young face was smooth I wanted to cause others to see their old world as new and ask new questions. Now I’m wrinkling, a little more thoughtful of others, and well on my way to making those mystery pictures and telling synaptical stories.

In a few days I’m going to be 63!
I look in the mirror and can’t find me!
The nice thin, smoooth layer of fat that hid all the worries, faith, frowns and laughter in my face has slipped to my waist!
BUT actually
I look like, and am, more me than I use be.nancymauerman.com