the bearded one
La Perouse, Sydney, August 2010 I grew a beard during the winter months. I tend to allow my facial-fur grow out during those cooler, grayer months of the year. I figure it's too much of a drag to run cold shaving gel over my face every morning when I'd much rather be asleep in bed. It's not that I necessarily have to get up early every morning, it's more that the winter vibe is not really all that conducive to daily rituals of cold blades and water and gel. Besides, the fuzzy beard keeps me warm. The most interesting aspect of growing a beard is in witnessing other people's perceptions of me, of which I'm equally amazed, and appalled. All of a sudden, as my beard becomes decisively furry and the whites become prominently pointed from my chin, I start to receive strange looks from people on the street. As if my beard is a signal for some strange sort of attention. There are a lot of sharp glances cast my way. Sometimes there are subtle...