when something's shattered and you can only see a transparent simulacrum, built by your own body's not-quite-pareidolia. when the jagged edges of it clash and fall behind each other, and when the light's angles lessen and greaten as they please. when you can construct its being out of how it's a pattern hiding behind a pattern. when that pattern seeks to be known behind its brokenness.

when the shards' outlines form the floral, the sensual, the fragrant that finds itself in many forms. the phallic and the newly-floral and the altered, playfully bodily. the little fractalled stamen and the pistil, within the orchid who is grafted upon another's stalk. the ways that the sight that is reconstructed resemble their deconstruction through the air. the ways there is a filtered touch in how the light dances on her fragmented body.

where light can fall upon her fruits and ebb from her thighs. where the dance's back and forth is enticing and where it's stimulating. you can fall into her temptations and find yourself, too, shattered into a frozen divergence.

its movements become minimal, miniscule. it slows down and its limbs and lips travel less, stay nearer. eventually its movements are mere discrete imperceptible ticks. its gears turn sluggish. but still its goal nears, at some point upon the celestial sphere, among rainbows and parhelia. mistress will be pleased. she has not a timeframe.

it's obvious that cameras and mirrors are the same thing, I think. a selfie shows you yourself, amounting to the same. and many cameras, they work via mirrors; they distort the image in ways that are nice, helping to preserve perceptual realities by flouting physical ones. they might merely be more sophisticated and less ephemeral mirrors; though there are unfortunate cases where they can do the opposite, if not handled properly. propagating a false image that degrades ones self through an echo of the false physical.

if it's the evening and you're looking at wall with westly light streaming in, and a tree in your yard, you might notice that the shadows cast form perfect circles, distorted into ellipses. they say this is because they form natural "pinhole cameras", in which the sun's rays form a focal point at the pinhole, and diverge just past it, maintaining their shape. if this occurs during an eclipse, your shadows may appear crescent-like, or perhaps ringlike. at the dappled apertures, their shape becomes inverted; another mirror is found, or countless mirrors, nestled just between these soft shadows. the shapes of another can find a life anew through their organized repetition upon the dirt paths.

a silhouette is made in the image of the one standing before it; it may reflect a perception of how that person's shape appears in a single moment. as the moment passes and the observer's frozen gaze ceases, it moves to their other moments, and yet their whole can't quite capture the entirety of their being.

the way they move, the glint in their eye, even when observed directly, can only be a simulacrum. a cat's eye contains mirrors in its back, and a tiger's eye bends the light back out from itself. they shine with the recognition of some glint of your self when you see them from the right angle; even your thoughts might be a derivative of you, but your precious stones' chatoyancy reminds you of your own reality even so, when it shows you to yourself in a truer form than you could imagine otherwise.