A tapestry woven from silence, embedded in the ink of forgotten quills, whispers the stories of mirrors that dream of water. Each reflection a fragment; a prism leaking truths swallowed by the haze of routine.
Mirrors communicate with droplets, as ink rituals itself into the ebbing language of glass. The substance reflects but never absorbs; a surface churning whispers untold. Boundaries fold over narratives that stitch seams in contemplation's embrace.
In contemplation, a simple mirror speaks simplicity's language, yet its depth consoles the echoes of silence. Reflecting one's shadow, it lacks the voice of creation but amplifies the void of absence.
A Clear Surface