At work, in one of the bathroom stalls, there are little holes and indentations in the bricks of the wall. They line up like constellations to form little faces. Some look like rabbits, dogs, old grimacing men. Dramatic faces yawning and bellowing.
I like seeing things configured in the shading of objects. Perhaps it is a healthy function of Gestalt psychology being sound. The brain is filling in patterns and adding flavor to perception. The imagination is being exercised. Or perhaps this a bad habit, for some day down the road when dementia sets it sails, these patterns recognized become all too vivid and undecipherable from reality. A frightening face on the bathroom wall would stop my bowels.