Your outward (physical) appearance is only for the perceptive view of others. How you see yourself means nothing, when you look in the mirror you might as well as be looking at someone walking down the street. When you think things about that person are you a bitch? do you pick them apart piece by piece ripping into them about every tiny spec and imperfection? Do you yell at them how imperfect they are and how ashamed they should be for the way they look? Do you look that stranger in the eye and judge them fully and completely? Or do you look through what you see and find what lies hidden deeper beneath it all and smile as they walk by. Would you harass a girl who was insecure about herself? Would you call an anorexic girl fat  or tell an overweight person to stop eating because they look disgusting? So why do you ever say any of these things to the stranger in the mirror every time you look. Why can't you smile at them and compliment them? Why can't you promote their happiness, help them help themselves and by helping that stranger you can help yourself. Don't be a stranger to who you are but instead be very close lovers.

Book Idea.

I fear it and so I live where it can not harm me. Do not look into the eyes of the beast, lest you become a beast as well, and do not stare into the abyss or the abyss will stare also into you.

He smiled to himself and then handed me a dull silver flask that stank of long too soured Torbite skins. I tried not to vomit in my mouth and gave him a weak smile.
"It goes down a lot like water this stuff does." His assistant took the offer and raised the dinged up flask above his mouth and took a long draught. He let out a sigh of contentment as he lowered it and replaced it within his underpocket. 1: an underpocket being the skin pouch he possessed under his left arm, there it goes to say that he had one of such pouches under each of his arms. A characteristic found in the dwellers of the 4th level. Seeing this always made me gag a tiny bit and part of me knows he does it just because he knows I hate it. I glowered at his back as we trodged off in the search of..."What was it we're looking for again?" I asked the hunter.
"..." silence.
"Hunter?" I tried to get his attention thinking perhaps he didn't hear me over the foul hot wind.
"......" again, silence.
I walked up closer, trudging up the sandy dune to his side."
"Hunter, I was wondering..." I was cut short. He turned sharply to face me, his hard, muscular, weathered face looked at me and his dark hazel eyes said everything. I put my head down and let him move forward a couple yards before again following in line as we made our way through nowhere to get to where Hunter  needed to be, but not even he knew where it was or how to traverse the nothing, or if this place he searched for even existed. This was all a bargain, we knew that when he asked us if we would come, and damned if I was going to miss an adventure like this, There's no way to know where we'll end up. Dead most like, Dried up like carrion jerky no doubt but even if it means it's my last adventure I'm so glad I get to die beside him doing what we both love most.