mirror me.

what is a mirror? it's the only invented material that is natural. anyone who looks into a mirror, who succeeds in seeing it without seeing himself, who understand that its depth consists of its being empty, who walks inside its transparent space without leaving in it a trace of his own image - that someone has then perceived its mystery as thing. that's why you have to surprise it when it's alone, when it's hung in an empty room, without forgetting that in front of it the most fragile needle could transform it into the simple image of a needle, so sensitive is the mirror in its quality of very light reflection, only image and not the substance. the body of the thing. 

only a very delicate person can walk into the empty room where there's an empty mirror and with such grace, with such absence of self, that the image does not register. as a reward, that delicate persona will then have penetrated into one of the inviolable secrets of things: he saw the mirror as it is. 

-the stream of life by clarice lispector.

often, i am encouraged by professors to write on myself as image in the mirror - the experience of what i saw/see. however, in my being terrified of it, i do not know how to approach it other than with sheer will not to be seen by it. at five on monday, i told him i often have a waking dream of a world without mirrors - that i wish to create a reality that thrives off their absence. he asked me why. and i told him a little of what i mean. 

also, i can't stop listening to as tall as cliffs by margot and the nuclear so and so's. download it for free here.