In the distorted gleam of the glass, truth bends like light in a prism. What am I but a whisper in this endless corridor of reflections?
As you watch, shadows flicker — moments unlived, choices unmade — glimmering briefly before vanishing into the mists of what could be.
Do you see yourself here, beyond the mirror's edge? Or is that just another illusion, another trick of the mind, playing hide and seek?