My bedroom when a child, was filled with imagery of melancholic clowns. How odd perhaps it was for a child to keep company with such things. The image I remember most vividly was the one hanging on the wall opposite my bed. When I awoke each morning I would run over to the curious little picture of four solemn clown faces painted on a mirror with gold trim. My reflected face would appear next to their painted ones and I would try to teach them all how to smile. I told them it was easy. I would smile and smile, every day for years, but they just stayed so sad. I didn't understand then, but I do now.
My smiles were all lost on them,
the fool I was to try disfigure something so beautiful.