sedarishy

There was this bathroom i once lived in.

It had mirrors, the entirety of the main wall - all frickin' mirrors. But, it wasn't one smooth, continuous mirror that ran down the wall. Instead, there were rows of separated rectangles of reflecting glass - stuck tight and clean-like on the wall in some weird militaristic parade of you. As you walked from the door to the sink, your image broke over and over again as you crashed through the separations in glass ... only to immediately reasseble as you passed the next plate.

Ahh ... and the sink. You had to face the mirror to use the sink - this white bulbousy behemoth jutted out from the wall waist high and, i might add, at full attention. Brushing one's teeth over the ... sink, was always good for a laugh.

I won't even comment on the toilet.

Anyway, I just couldn't handle these mirrors - so, I hung up a patchwork of whatever clothey-clothes I found and scrounged, covering up the whole lot of them.

For personal hygiene, I would leave one rectangle of reflection uncovered and viewable. But then, after a few days ... i found that moving the point of reflection amused me and I began sliding and rotating the patchwork blinders like one of those stupid spelling puzzles that rotates letters in thin block cut-outs.

i always hated those.

But, in that image, so did I orchestrate and organize my swathes of color and coverage - repositioning the image maker in whatever random opening remained after fumbling, dropping and redropping the covers and stickies and pushes around edges.
~