Azinka's mask

In the dusty attic of an old house, you find it—a mask, smooth and featureless, waiting in silence. The moment it touches your face, your body shifts, your reflection no longer your own. You have become someone else. Nobody questions your new identity. They recognize you, speak to you, trust you—even if the person you now resemble has been dead for years. What will you do with this power? Will you uncover forgotten truths? Live another’s life? Walk unseen through a world that no longer knows you? Or will you become lost, wearing face after face, until you no longer remember your own? The mask does not steal. It copy. Welcome to the third edition of Azenca's equipment. I hope you will like it.🌚🫶🫶