The thoughts of strangers at the intersection of the Edge of Mirrors

Every new level of steel and composite distorts reality as we walk through urban streets in a stupor as the shifting shapes of our shadows grow taller in the tower mirror.

What is reality, though, when the red tail lights and broken street lanterns blur together? It gets harder to tell the distance the closer you get to the edge. Perhaps a fall from grace was necessary to shatter the sky of irreparably broken mirrors.

either through a broken rearview mirror or into the frame of a marble vanity. Dark bags under the eyes are no longer hidden by strained smiles at the crossroads. Rich red irises with bloodshot scleras pouring in were warmly received.

Pale skin with chapped lips is accentuated by the winter air that flows through the sweater's openings. I rebalance each hand and grab for a smoke. From the corner, a man points at me. He gestures for a light to ignite his half-smoked cigar. I approach him. With the black towel slung over his shoulder and blurry eyes suggesting a late shift, we converse over smoke stacks and few sentences.

We agree on many issues related to the human condition and enjoy each other's company. Cars pass by as we discuss the distractions of our youth and realize the power of our melanin. These brief moments emphasize the worth of time and the beauty of life. Thirty minutes melted into seconds in his closing remarks. The wisdom of the wise is reflected in this ambiguous phrase.

While many people look in their own faces, few are able to look oneself in the eyes.