My beard is not discernible from this underexposed image, but it is there! People look at me and treat me differently because of my beard. I receive more glances, maybe because of uniqueness or similar. A younger man on the T asked me, standing, if I wanted his seat. My beard is white. My beard is a disguise and in that sense it is liberating. My wife hates it, saying it makes me look older. I call my whiskers the illusion of wisdom.