Beauty: The Silent Scream

Behind his newspaper, the man in the train is having a fight with his face. First his mouth wambles in a wild Watutsi, then it gapes wide in a silent scream. All at once his eyebrows make a break for his brainpan, the tendons of his neck bulge in sudden constriction. Apoplexy? Withdrawal pains? Hangover? Not at all. Only a commuting executive giving himself his morning facial. Back home, blessedly unobserved, his wife is doing the same thing at the bathroom mirror.

Both grimacers are converts to the latest twist in isometric exercises,...

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