Man in the Mirror

I’m still not sure which buttons operate the zoom function, so I step closer to get as much of the mirror in the shot, and as little of the uninteresting background. For about a minute I see the world through the 72 pixels-per-inch-resolution viewfinder of my camera.

Damn – my reflection! I side-step and side-step again but I can’t seem to find an angle that excludes my warped mirror-image self from the picture. I try stooping, crouching and holding my head at an uncomfortable angle but there is always some part of me still visible.

Perhaps I will have to Photoshop myself out of the final image when I get home.

Then my book slips out of my fingers – it is a library book: the autobiography of a craggy-faced South London comedian, but that’s neither here not there, I suppose – and I notice something very disturbing.

There is no corresponding book dropping to the ground in the mirror.

Unable to take my eyes from the camera screen, I gingerly manoeuvre the toe of my left shoe until it touches the spine of the book. I nudge it. And I glance at the toe of Reflected Me. He isn’t even moving his foot, nevermind almost standing on a book.

I gulp down the rising panic and try to form a thought. Is this a trick sculpture? Perhaps it’s a video screen, processing its received image in an upsetting and misleading fashion.

I take the camera away from my twitching eye and sure enough… In that Reflected World there is no hardback book on the ground.
I want to cry.

I look down then, for my own book, in the Real World. And it has gone.

No one believes my story.
Especially the library.
Who insist that I owe them £17.99.

The following two tabs change content below.
David Baillie is a freelance writer and artist. Born almost thirty years ago in Scotland, he now lives and works in the East End of London.

Latest posts by davidbaillie (see all)

There are no comments

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

  
Please enter an e-mail address