Hidden beneath, it shields and conceals, a borrowed identity it reveals. In masquerades, it takes the stage, a face unknown in this playful charade.

I don’t have a mouth, yet I express. I move around without bearing flesh. Reinvented constantly just to stay on track, And yet, I’m always under attack.

Although great under pressure, when in the spotlight is when I shine best. I can be as common as sand or more rare than the truth. But you won't take me home until I pass a test. What am I?

A sturdy traveler on two feet, it dances through puddles and marches through snow, shielding from wet and cold below.

First four: good or bad, latest updates Five more: pulp product, for towels or plates Used to visit each day, now most hide behind gates