

Mirror
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Mirror
I storm into the room with a hurricane inside me. In the mirror, I gaze at this figure, with whom, I have things to settle. I have to answer my own questions.
- Who are you??! And don't you dare say your name, what or who is that name referring to?
- In the plane of time, perhaps I’m still young, but only in the present, I was a child before, and later I will become old. Why is this particular moment what matters? Is the current me who I am, or all the versions of me on my timeline, the past me, the present me, and the future me combined, is the “me”? Or maybe there's being without time, like on another constant plane beyond time, like heaven, and only there I come to essence?
- You avoid the question with questions.
You cling to the language you dominate,
as you shape castles from it in


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