Mirrors are eyes stapled open. Ever-seeing, never blinking, there is no rest for their sight. Hours, days, years pass staring at the same stretch of wall, the same shifting shadows as dawn rises and noon bursts and night falls. They see the little ragged seams of reality, where now meets before uneasily. They see the way most mortal eyes slip right past the seams, sifting the blur into shadow—déjà vu—daydream.
