In the labyrinth of glass, the reflections bend and twist, revealing a self that is not self. What is reality if not a maze of perceptions, each corridor lined with echoes of who we think we are?
"The mirror reflects my shadow, but only I know its form." - Anonymous Philosopher
Each reflection from the myriad of mirrors distorts the silhouette of society, reshaping it in nebulous forms. One wonders, is society a single entity, or is it a multitude of selves, each within a mirror of perception?
"We are as we are seen, yet unseen we are more." - The Collective Sage
Amidst the mirrored maze, one might lose one's voice, only to find it anew in the distortion. This echo, however fidicious, reveals truth in its own warped way. Is the echo less real than the voice it imitates?
"We speak, and the mirrors speak back, in languages we do not understand." - The Philosopher of Mirrors