Of course, gravity has a hand in the downward trend of our faces and the inevitability of gravity’s force made Bousoño’s smile wrinkles all the more marvelous. I lived for the moments when he would be reading a poem and his mouth would twitch upward and the multiple parentheses of wrinkles at the corners of his mouth would ripple up his face and meet the happy wrinkles near the corners of his eyes. It was like watching the best kind of natural confluence, an eclipse, but it was far more frequent than eclipses are.
I thought of Bousoño after I saw some pictures of a sixty-one years old super-model who looks decades younger. I know models and actors need to maintain a certain standard of looks, but I think about the lying face. At some point, spackling your face to keep its’ settling masked is unsettling.
When an eighty-year old, over-filled actor tries to smile and you can almost feel his skin creaking, it hurts more than your sensibilities. Then the ease of Bousoño’s flashing smile comes to mind, and I just can’t help but smile back.