This journey: only a perspective jaunt towards our vanishing points.
Staring contest. Who blinks first? Breaking the spell, connection dispersed.
Something’s not right, the face mirrored back’s a real sight.
Back to front, right is left, driving’s a complete mess.
This thin veil where both sides exist: nothing is real.
You walked straight forwards and disappeared into your own reflection.
The twin I am never without occasionally making an appearance.
Blurring what’s in front and behind, to a perfect palimpsest.
Fluctuating focuses hide what might, or might not, be there.
It’s likely not only projection that’s reflected in your direction.
I think that I see some visual Zen koans here. Hmm.....
The mirror is the entry to the underworld. So said Jean Cocteau. And so said the devil to me, as I saw him emerge one day from a mirror.
But it's only the entry. The underworld itself lies far deeper. There, everything is only too real.