Face created by a master.
How could one year define his life? If he would look at me, would I know?
My breath mingles with the years and touches the created and maybe even the creator. Did he imagine his own aged face, his son, or is this the book binder or the butcher immortalized, made regal - touched by having been seen and given the chance to see?

- Studies of the Heads and Hands of Two Apostles
-Raphael