Splashing my face abruptly with the water inside the sink that I had formed with a mixture of bulky scraps of stone and rock, I experience the coolness and richness of this life I have chosen. The water is untouched with no chemicals those scientists with lab coats mix into it then declare it sanitary, unsullied, the epitome of what atomy needs to live. Thirst thrived to encourage me to drink the water that fell from the sky. I shook myself, doglike. I do not longer ponder on what I look like, with no mirrors; it is hard to know what I have become. Whether I look my age anymore, whether I would be attractive or beautiful. The face I have now holds neither importance nor substance. I imagine that I have hollow looking eyes engulfed in blackness and weariness, with the paranoid eye movements resembling a cuckoo clock. My cheeks have caved in, become mountain peaks, white and pallid. My skin will look stretched with indents peaking and falling. It is best that I will never see my reflection again. I slashed my hair yesterday; it was no longer picturesque after the first week. Its length became difficult. I could not be the woman my ovaries designed me to be, the loss of my hair reinforces that I do not have a sex or gender. Why would it matter to any further extent, I am human, I can be independent and make choices according to what I think. I do not think like woman or man. I think as a person would. Doing this ritual reinforces how life has changed. Looks have no merit where I am.