In the dim glow of a flickering lightbulb, I face the silent witness. A mirrored visage devoid of answers, yet brimming with questions no one dares to ask. "Who am I?" I ponder in vain, waiting for the reflection to respond with its sardonic grin.
Have you noticed, dear reader, how the mirror does not care for your moods? "Mirth," it calls, casting shadows that mock your every attempt at seriousness. In its glassy world, I am an eternal voyager with a one-way ticket to nowhere.
Occasionally, I catch glimpses of my reflection as it contemplates the existential abyss. Sometimes, I see a phantom figure that resembles my alter ego, the one who perhaps became successful in a parallel universe. Or maybe that's just my overactive imagination.
The gallery of reflections includes: