You catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar reflection, isn't it, though, as if the very atoms of your being reshuffle under the glass surface? This chamber entwines itself within you, its whispers echoing through corridors of question and doubt. Was there once a path unquestioned?

Mirror upon mirror—twisted, warping, fractals of self. You reach to touch, to know if reality could anchor itself within this rolling maze. Yet every touch brings more question, so much multiplicity adorned with uncertainty.

Pause, if you dare—reflect on reflections in ceaseless motion, in front of an unknown self: who claims dominion over this shifting visage? Each slide within the corridor taints the known with hues of déjà vu mixed, stitched with dreams maybe unspoken.