Mirror's Edge

Wandering through city streets in a trance as the changing forms of our silhouettes grow taller in the reflection of skyscrapers—each passing dimension of composite and steel warping reality.

But what is reality when the contrast of red tail lights and faulty street lanterns blur together? The distance is getting harder to distinguish with each step closer to the edge. Perhaps a fall from grace is what we needed to shatter the skies of broken mirrors beyond repair.

Whether glancing through a cracked rearview or peering into the frame of a marble vanity. Dark under-eye circles no longer hidden by forced smiles at the crossroads. Bloodshot scleras seeping into deep auburn irises warmly embraced.

Chapped lips compliment ashen skin as winter air passes through the holes in this sweatshirt. I rebalm each hand before reaching for a cigarette. A man on the corner motions to me. He gestures for a light to spark his half-smoked cigar. I move towards him. The black towel over his shoulder and glassy eyes trail hints of a late shift as we converse over smoke stacks and fleeting words.

Enjoying each other’s company, our spirits align on many subjects regarding the human condition. Cars pass as we speak on the distractions of our youth while acknowledging the strength within our melanin. Subtle moments that show how beautiful this life is and how precious our time. Half an hour turned to seconds in his final remark. An open-ended statement, a reflection of the wise.

“A lot of people look themselves in the face, but few can look themselves in the eyes.”

- H. J. Levon