Another of Melville's thought provoking short stories.

Liken it to a painting. A painting that begins as a portrait as you spot if from across the room. But as you approach, the face seems to lose focus, no longer a clean portrayal. It becomes less and less clear, more and more disconcerting, as you get closer and closer, until you are certain that what was obviously a portrait can be nothing more than an abstract exercise. Your too-close inspection will yield nothing but stubborn, withholding, patches of painted color that tell no story.
As you retreat from the painting, the protrait fades back into view, but you're now left wondering what, exactly, constitutes that person you see hanging on the wall.