Last week, something strange happened to me. It began and unfolded because of a mirror that still hangs in my bedroom. Rather than strange, the mirror is downright eerie. It is like a dream. I watched my body slowly disappear, melting away bit by bit into the mirror’s broad, bright surface. I was drawn to it, obsessed with it, as if countless taut strings were controlling my puppet-like body and making me step toward the gaping maw of an abyss, one step at a time. It was a disaster in my life.
