In the grand scheme of interstellar irony, mirrors are but portals to self-doubt.
Gaze into its depths, and witness the universe pausing in existential bemusement.
Each reflection, a cosmic joke unraveled by quarks and virtual photons, satirically
bidding you to ponder the absurdity of your galactic presence.
How curious that mirrors conceal the fading echoes of a star's long-dead light,
yet here they stand, loyally reflecting every wrinkle of time on the celestial face.
In a world where cosmic dust speaks fluent sarcasm, the mirror is the unintentional sage
of humorous prophecies written in the language of entropy.