fiction 

It has depth and depthlessness.

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I feel a meditative calm in the city, walking down the avenues to Clair de Lune. The energy of the city washes over me, and impishly, the transluscent windows throw me back at me, aware of my self-possessed air yet, without critique.

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The mirror, in stasis.

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Photographed again, new shadows and reflections play across its surface as fleeting emotions across the face of an actress at screen-test- distinct instances immortalized.

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The photograph carries itself with a calm, assured presence. It is mellow and soothing- its blue cool without being cold, fashionable without being coy.

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It is unbelievably beautiful.