Tower of Mirrors

Once I got lost in a labyrinth of mirrors whose scale was magnified by the coldest of ambitions. The exterior was the interior. The slick surfaces provided no place to rest. Only in the movies is it as simple as smashing mirrors. These labyrinthine mirrors were more like glassy volcanic rock that had oozed and solidified from a molten core.

Curtains of watery reflections stall by inspiring a strange sense of wonder at how this labyrinth came into existence. At every glance, it tried to convince me that I was staring at myself and asked me to ignore the way it hacked everything up while it distorted the past so I could not keep track of where I had been.

How could anyone find beauty here? Only a great deceiver could have built this. It was under everyone’s nose in this place, but it had already taken them in – to the degree that they did not see how lost they were in it. The confusion became normalized. Some people even wanted to live here because it had lured them in through the fascism of what they found beautiful. But it also trapped people whose idea of beauty sharply contrasted with it. In a sense, this labyrinth was like a black hole behind the empty mirror image sucking everyone in to worship or blaspheme at its altar of power over truth.

10 thoughts on “Tower of Mirrors”

    1. I went in. Think The Shining meets Brazil. Crooner music – that old black magic has me in its spell…icy fingers up and down my spine – echoed from deep within the simulated grotto / shopping plaza. Jewelry cases displayed the latest in Trump fashion. Down and Down I go All around I go – American flags turned into banners more suited to a Ministry of Information. And the copper-tinted mirrors / pink marble combo screamed classy absurdity.

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