I type into google a m a s k expecting the spook of the season in orange and white and green for pumpkin or ghost or Frankenstein or black, the cat, the witch, the vampire or red, for gore and blood, for devil instead the blue sheets fill the screen. The same that lie discarded trodden on roadsides remnants of a crisis in motion laid to rest on the side, as we attempt moving on. There are more masks than two; there are the beauty kind, the soft slumber goes on the eyes few, then there are the invisible, hard to find to pin point on the face facade. But the clinical is fairly new and 'the mask' of the moment. Forget the scares, the BOO or metaphor or clay. A mask today is practical, for you and me, our barrier like an artificial skin.