This is the face of a man who is comfortable in his skin…his freckled skin that he now and without apology boldly reveals to us. The powers that be who insisted on packing layers on his face in an effort to cover these beloved pieces of Clay have been vanquished by the man’s own powerful spirit. I like to think that each proud freckle in this picture represents someone in Clay’s life who ever doubted him, ridiculed him, lied to him or left him. And, of course, he is indeed a man, his ruddy stubble letting us know that were he of a mind, he could have a beard that would, no doubt, make some women swoon. Other women, of course, would lament him hiding even one copper dot, one vanquished foe.
One question . . .What is he sitting on and why?