In the quiet corners of the night, when the stars whisper secrets to the lost wanderers, the mirror reflects not your face, but your essence. A face you once knew, trapped within the silvered glass. It speaks in forgotten tongues, in sentiments etched by time like constellations across a darkened sky—a map for those daring to trace their souls back to origins untold.
Remember when the light fell just so, revealing the contours of dreams deferred? Each reflection a question, waiting for answers submerged in stardust. There’s a haunting beauty in this—seeing past what is real into what could have been. The mirror trembles, revealing shadows of a life lived in parallel, just out of reach.