Your task, tonight, today, this morning, wherever you should be is: To glance, to look just once at the woman on your left, on the train or bus or to the right or right in front of you in the checkout at the grocery or bench in the park and not notice her face, nor her clothes, or whether chosen to be plain. Her grace is not your posession. Notice the color of skin, the texture, how covered or bare, and how adorned. Do not revel or revile. It is not yours. See the cracks, the creases, the little lines in the corner of the eyes, your own eyes, squinting with a little pity or to see clearly to pry or tease open that sight unseen. Stop. It is not for you. And tomorrow, with this in mind notice the man opposite you, on the other side of the street see just how like himself he is. Not today. That judgement is yours to keep. Now See him in front of you, on the stair, on the sidewalk, buying bread in a café pushing a baby stroller with no child inside. The question on your tongue will stay there, unasked.