She is my mother.  

&amp;#x200B;

I cannot describe her to you, not with what little time I have now to capture your attention.  Anything short enough to be read in one sitting would shine light on only one of her multi facets, and even that would be the wrong shade and likely in poor taste.  Long enough to convey to you her way of being, her nature, the way that she experiences herself and to give you some vague measure of how you may experience her.... why, we would all end up lost in some other echo. 

&amp;#x200B;

I cannot describe myself to you either, because she is the mirror I studied to learn my own image.  Together we have many faces for only us two.  I weave new faces together from clutches of straw cut by the blade of desperation, my frantic endeavor to wear a face that she has never worn.  Every creation fails in some way, the quantification of which would make an unnecessary elaboration; let it suffice to say that she taught me the craft.