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“Through the half-opened door I looked into our large and gloomy drawing room. There was no one in it. The mirror, alone and cold, swinging free on its stand, shone with a strange light.
I rarely looked at myself in it. I was afraid of being caught–in the act of admiring myself.
Nose long at the nostrils, alas! Broad, sharp cheek-bones, irregular profile.
Sometimes I would stand and gaze at myself thoughtfully.
What is the meaning of my youth?
I’m growing up in vain. Useless and fleeting beauty immobilized in the mirror.
Once I have reached the age of thirteen, my carefree childhood will be over and all the sins will fall on my head. Shall I sin?
I burst into loud laughter and my white teeth flash in the mirror.

Marc Chagall, from My Life


 
 

sin. party word.
mirrors are cheap. scratch their backs and change them forever.
the thing about lions, they all look the same. you can’t tell them apart.
and still we invest them with vanity and pride.
tear you to pieces.

 
 

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