I picture myself in a hall of mirrors. My reflection repeated infinitely until imperceptible. Until there’s only darkness. And each of the me’s I see are different. They’re the past ones. Each reflection bounces younger and younger as they get smaller and smaller. Each one is farther and further away from the present. They don’t seem related. They don’t seem like they could be the same person. And that darkness that it all ends into– I want to know what’s there. It’s the beginning, and I can’t see it.
The journey continues. The reflections get older. The starting point, the origin, the original gets farther and further away.
I want to get closer to it.
narinda heng 