viernes, 4 de marzo de 2011


The smile on the mirror is fading, as the wind blows against my face. I am standing in front of the mirror, but the wind blows against me, nevertheless. The walls are gone and suddenly it's just me and the mirror, surrounded by an endless sea of sand and teardrops. I smile, but the mirror frowns back at me. It would seem that the person belongs to a shadow, and not the other way around. He has no shadow, but a shadow has him. The smile on this dark face reminds me of myself, but it's not quite me (or perhaps it is more me than I ever will be, who knows?).
Alas, the fellow I see through the mirror reminds me of someone else, an inhabitant of the shadows from dreams I never even dared dreaming. I tell myself it's not a nightmare and it's not a lie. A voice inside tells me it's not even a dream, and it is not fallacy, yet it does not come from our world or any adjacent one, for there are worlds we dare not even speak of, though deep inside, we are aware of their existence and fear the mere thought of them. This mirror dude opens his mouth, but I cannot hear anything; I just tremble. I gaze at his brown eyes (which seem red to me, but I am wrong).
I now realize that I am afraid. Once again, I see the mouth open; it opens, but this time, I close my eyes and stop myself from shivering, and listen the most awful combination of words one can ever hear. At least that is what I think and, as I see his face, I notice he threatens to open his mouth once more. It is in this moment that I find myself with every man's fear: choices. As of this moment, I do not know whether to turn and run or listen to the mirror's feedback.

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