Tears seem to have learnt a new way to navigate my face.

They tumble out of my eyes silently and without warning now. And there’s always another when I think they’re all done.

They run round the sides of my eyes, caress each eyelash and then spill over on to my cheeks. And rather than run, they drift like feathers on water towards my nose where I swear they try to get back to my eyes before relenting and finding mass comfort in my beard.

So I have a proud, wet beard now, full of sleepy little tears.


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