Mirrordance Chronicles
In a carnival of glass and laughter, the mirrors speak in riddles. Today, the reflection blossomed into a whispering flower, petals of me unfolding in fragments.
"You don't really know what's inside, do you?" a shadow leaned forth from the mirror's edge. Edges blur and twist like forgotten dreams.
Once upon an unresolved echo, the carnival played on: laughter against hollow steel, a melody mismatched with a smile. Perhaps the funhouse knows secrets, things left unsaid, folded away like an origami crane shy of the sky.