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Mirrors

I wanted to tell him that I saw nothing, wanted to let him know that I didn’t notice anything. I wanted him to show me something, I wanted to see everything. But I just stood there, staring, too scared to follow the path of my mind. I looked at him. His eyes were fixated on something in the nothingness of the thing I couldn’t see, he seemed so calm, happy and at peace. That’s what I wanted, but I just stood there, staring, lost. He must’ve noticed my bewilderment, as he came right over, a smile plastered on his face. It felt so comforting, yet so scary. He never smiled, I never saw him do, maybe not just at me. He placed a large palm of a hand on my shoulder, a question lining the fine corners of his mouth, a question of now do you see?

We stared together at the thing, and we saw nothing. His head hung pitifully, his eyes low. Like a servant, he rose gracefully, leading us into the hallowed chambers of everything. He wasn’t here or there, just only where we looked in. I kept looking, but remained lost, kept seeking but remained sought. Then my little mind cried out in a loud voice, a voice so loud that only I could hear it. It was a plea, a request, emitted from the deep bowels of curiosity, fuelled by the longing for art. A cry to the thing, asking it to let me see something, just a little peek, a little view, a little see to saw my desire into bits.

Through my cry, my plea, my yearning, I still saw nothing. He was smiling this time. It felt so comforting, yet so scary. He never smiled, I never saw him do, maybe not just at me. He placed a large palm of relief on my mind, an answer lining the fine corners of his mouth. He spoke some words to me to hear, words to me that spoke so dear.

“You can’t see everything,” he said, “you don’t have to see something. You can always see anything you want. Just open your heart and mind, because it takes three wise two understand.”

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