Here I sit in Journalism class. In front of me sits fellow student Ryan Cole. As I stare into the back of his head, I ponder deep things of the universe. It is one head yet made up of many parts. Each hair is itself made up of many parts. Is his head, therefore, one unit or many units – or units of units for that matter. Each hair conforms to the overall flow or pattern that its surrounding hairs also follow. Yet here and there are brave bold hairs – hairs with a mind of their own – that do not conform and instead stand out on their own, sticking out any way they please.
And then they stop. This seemingly infinite supply of hair does in fact have limits. It ceases to flow and is interrupted by the naked flesh of a neck. No, it is not actually naked, for it is covered by small, slightly visible hairs – not as impressive as those hovering above them.
This is all I can see. Yet I know, deep within my being, that on the other side of his head is a face. I believe this, yet I cannot see it. Would it then surprise me if he turned around and all that was there was more hair? I’ll just have to wait and see.
