The Faceless man

I’ve often wondered about the Ferry Man — the taker of souls across the river Styx.

I wonder what he thinks — if he thinks.

What he wants, what his needs are.

Who does he love (if he can love) or if he longs for love.

What would his face look like if he had one. When he was still human, before he got cast out.

I imagine him now with hollowed-out eyes and no mouth, slender and pale.

Like a terrifying porcelain angel. A beautiful mess.

I wonder if someone has ever broken his heart, though I have no idea how once might go about breaking a faceless man’s heart.

Perhaps he was a beautful man, a fisherman, from generations of fishermen, and he threw it all away for one wild night with Aphrodite.