Moonface

They called him moonface
His face was pretty round
He didn’t mind, he loved the moon.
He loved food, too.
And he loved to have a shiny, clean face.
So, moonface it was.
Everywhere he went, people would say his name, some for fun, some to hurt.
Moonface, moonface, moonface…
One day he got sick of hearing that name, and he decided to do something about it.
He drew a picture of the moon, with his face on it.
Now THAT’S a moonface, he told them all. OK, was the ironic response.
But one of his friends worked in projection. She took a photo of him. She spent weeks squirreled away in her lab, working on a secret project.
One clear night, she led him outside, and made him stand behind a huge – I mean, this thing was enormous – cylinder. It was pointed at the sky.
Close your eyes, she said. He did. Push this button, she said. He did. Open your eyes. He did.
Up on the moon, he could see his face. Not a man in the moon cheesy grin fairytale pretend face, but his actual face, projected all the way into sky, so all the world could see.
I’m a moonface, I’m a moonface, he squealed.
Then he made her put her face up there. It looked amazing. She was a moonface!
So they let all the kids and parents in the world form one big line, and bring a photo of themselves to be projected up on the moon. They could really only do it when the moon was full or nearly, so about 5 days in a month.
For 5 minutes, everyone in the world was a moonface. Moonfaces by the millions, by the billions.
And for that 5 minutes, that person, and only that person, was the centre of everything on earth.
And that, my moonfaced friends, is the way it should be.
Copyright Peter Warrington 2014
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About peterwarrington65

geography, street art, cricket, Richmond Tigers, PJ Harvey, View all posts by peterwarrington65

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