Looking into transparent folds, swinging from different thoughts; Monkey on the vine, pulling hard on moss-eaten velvet ropes. Spectacular night sky in which we are all a part. Mirror of Erised lives inside us all. It’s a switch flipped, exacerbated by depression and drugs. Same filibuster longing exception waiting, waning simple skeleton snake skin shedding off toxic wasteland sludge. The mirror gazes back, the television gazes back. Crafting reality. Roman Polanski’s first film? It shines for us brightly, sunlight reflected and blinding, holding back nothing, it does not censor light, nor nudity. Painting picture polish forth, sandblasting our memory so that it coincides with our present state of mind. I self-reflect often. On this rowboat of present life, I always tend to have one hand, or one finger, in the water trailing behind me as the inertia propels the boat forth. Am I rowing? Is it someone else? Is that someone else myself? Tracksuit athleticism Olympian. Zeus wearing Adidas. Tasteless recompense. Compasses point North, but does North exist?