The past is a proof of our true selves. But we are an aspirational species. We desire more and so we put up a facade to glorify our present. Its not the truth.
The facade elevates us to be what we aspire to be. Once we fulfil that aspiration, we pull down the facade and store it safely in a deep vault within ourselves and put on a different mask for a new lust. The mask is ostentatious, arrogant and listless. Our inner being, on the other hand, is the exact opposite; it is modest, shy and vivacious in the true sense.
The world is a stage and the guise we wear plays out a character. Every part the character plays, draws inspiration from the previous masks we have stored deep in our vault. Our current concocted reality has faith that all previous facades stored in the vault will help it leap and grab our new trophy.
You cannot separate the body from its shadow. When the darkness of death befalls you, that veil-less face exudes reverence, even if the facade you adorned, appeared to be the most appalling one.
Verity of ones being and the deception of his vanity tread on a thin line solely relying on each other’s assistance to accrue adulations and honour from society.