A masque, what does it hide do you think? It's sort of a mischievious wink that you get from a child that has been caught with it's hand in the biccie jar. The snow that hides the crocus, a bit of personality hiding behind the humdrum of everyday life. Perhaps this one could describe the inner me, the one that is confident behind the intrigue, choosing to be the masque itself, a confident me, who has a secret maybe. Not a bad secret of course, but a love secret, a knowing that I have a man who knows me well, and that I bask in the knowledge that he loves me unconditionally, with all my faults (my N), a faith secret, a different pathway, which I wish to follow, a shunned upon belief that is so natural, a real one, that makes sense, in this world we live in.